


Wolfhunt

by SidheLives



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Memories, Multi, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Post-Trespasser, Secrets, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Song: Don't Close Your Eyes (Sam Tinnesz), Song: Dust to Dust (The Civil Wars), Song: Find You (The Phantoms), Song: Hurts Like Hell (Fleurie), Song: Only Love (PVRIS), Song: Savior (No/Me), Song: Shake It Out (Florence + the Machine), Song: The Other Side (Ruelle), Song: What's Wrong (PRVIS), Song: Wicked Game (Ursine Vulpine feat. Annaca), Song: Wish You Were Here (Florence + the Machine), Song: Wolf & I (Oh Land), Song: Youth (Daughter), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheLives/pseuds/SidheLives
Summary: Immediately following the events of Trespasser. Here there be **SPOILERS**The former Inquisitor, Athim Lavellan, is in no shape for fighting. She has no Inquisition, few allies, and a broken heart, not to mention being down a limb. Something is coming, something that threatens everything and everyone in Thedas, and Athim is the only one who knows. She has to do something, but without the Anchor and the Inquisition, what is she compared to the Dread Wolf?Beta'd by the wonderful ar_lath_ma
Relationships: Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras, Blackwall & Lavellan, Blackwall & Sera, Cole & Lavellan, Dagna/Sera (Dragon Age), Iron Bull & Lavellan, Lavellan & Cassandra Pentaghast, Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford, Lavellan & Dagna, Lavellan & Dorian Pavus, Lavellan & Josephine Montilyet, Lavellan & Leliana, Lavellan & Sera, Lavellan & Solas, Lavellan & Varric Tethras, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 33





	1. Prologue - I Didn't Want this Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years gone  
> Came back as some bones and so cynical  
> This skin don't feel like home  
> It's all overgrown but you'll never know  
> Take the mirror from the wall so I can't see myself at all  
> Don't wanna see another damn inch of my skull  
> Forget the poems of saints and ghosts  
> I'm the one I fear the most  
> Little did I know that I was only crying wolf  
> -What's Wrong by PVRIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assistance with Sera's dialogue provided by LoreKeeper427

Somewhere beyond the enveloping darkness of Athim's sleep she could hear birds singing. She floated in the void of darkness which had replaced her nightly visits to the Fade. It was cold but comforting; an escape from which the chorus of wildlife now shook her loose from.

She tightened her eyes against the light which had begun to creep into her unconsciousness. Athim tossed on the edge, longing to return to the nothingness from which she had been roused. 

_ Solas, var lath vir suledin. _

_ I wish it could, Vhenan. _

The image of his face flashed in her mind. So close to hers, his eyes sad and lips painted with the familiar sad smile. The memory was so vivid she could have reached out and touched him.

"Solas!" She jerked upright, arm outstretched, eyes snapping open as she gasped his name.

She discovered she was in a thick feather bed covered in deep red, heavy blankets embroidered with golden thread. The ceiling was covered with images of angels and lions backed by a yellow and pink sunset. Athim spun her eyes around the room in confusion. Thick damask curtains with tassels, rich floral wallpaper, opulent vases filled with fresh lilies and roses. She stared at the finary with a furrowed brow. The last thing she remembered was being with Solas amid the Elvhen ruins… 

No, that wasn't right. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness clouding her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was falling through the Eluvian into Dorian's waiting arms- the taste of Solas' kiss still lingering on her lips and the warmth of his magic still tingling along her arm.

Her  _ arm _ .

Athim looked down and saw what was left of her arm. No elbow, no wrist, or hand. Where the flesh stopped someone had applied what Athim knew to be unnecessary bandages. She had seen the clean and scarless flesh which lay beneath once his magic had done it’s work.

She could still feel her missing fingers and the phantom sensation of them moving sent a wave of nausea rolling through her.

She looked away, swallowing hard against her heaving stomach. She refocused on the room around her and at last recognised it as part of her suite in the Winter Palace.

Athim's face tightened, brows drawing down to her eyes. She struggled to recall anything after her passing through the Eluvian, but it was blank.

She pushed herself out of bed and headed for the door to the sitting room. Anxiety began to grow in her gut like a weed, thorns pressing into her ribs and lungs. Her heart rate increased and the speed of her legs in turn until she was racing for the door.

Athim ripped the door open to find the outer parlor crowded with people she did not recognize and she froze for half a heartbeat. Her emergence caused a fluster of activity, people jumped to their feet and rushed to her side

"Inquisitor! You're awake!" Athim pushed past them into the room.

"What's happened? Where is everyone?" There was an edge of undisguised irritation in her voice over the Orlesian's unwanted fawning.

"You've been unconscious for two days, Lady Inquisitor." One of the masked women approached her again, attempting to take Athim's hand but the elf stepped back, keeping her hand close to her chest.

"Two days?" The knowledge spun in Athim’s head and she had trouble maintaining focus on the blue eyes behind the woman’s mask. She nodded and continued speaking, as if she hadn’t been interrupted.

"The Counsel reconvened this morning. Ambassador Montilyet attempted to delay them but they were insistent."

Athim felt anger ignite like a fire in her chest. Her hand tightened into a fist and she once again pressed through the throng of people to the outer door.

"Lady Inquisitor! Where are you going?"

"You're not dressed Your Worship!"

She ignored their shouting and reaching hands. The hallway outside her suite was empty for only a moment. The clamoring of her exit drew attention and doors began to open, curious faces looking out. The Inquisitor stormed down the hallway, the energy she carried with her such that the onlookers pulled back into their chambers as quickly as they had taken interest. She was hot, anger warming her skin and narrowing her focus. 

Someone grabbed her arm and she ripped it away, turning to tell off the individual, until she saw who it was.

"Sera," Athim felt her shoulders relax at the sight of her.

Sera grinned at her, wiggling her eyebrows. "Look at you in them fancy breeches."

For the first time Athim took note of her clothing. She was barefoot, in plain pants, and her torso was covered in bandages but nothing else. Her breasts and shoulders were bound in clean tight linen which matched the cloth binding her amputated arm. Seeing empty air where her arm should have been again the familiar nausea returned and she swallowed hard.

Athim, who on any other occasion would have been flustered and flushed crimson at her lack of clothing, found she couldn't be bothered to be concerned. "Have I really been asleep for two days?"

Sera nodded. "The icky pet demon wouldn't let anybody near you. Weird. It's always weird though, innit?" She gestured with her head at Athim's left arm. "Speaking of weird, right? Putting on your knickers gotta be a struggle now, eh?"

Athim's eyebrows furrowed and her attention followed the woman's gesture towards her left arm, but quickly looked away before her eyes reached it.

"Shite. I mean- I just thought... piss." Sera's attention seemed to turn inward and her volume dropped. "Don't talk about the arm. Or the... not arm. Or, shite, shut it already!"

"Sera. It’s fine.” She pushed the feeling of discomfort away. While she appreciated Sera’s concern she needed information more than sympathy. “What happened while I was out?"

Sera seemed relieved at the change of subject and let out a short giggle. "Ooh should'a seen their faces. Red as tomatoes, right?" She dropped her tone to a mocking baritone. "This is  _ your _ fault." Her voice jumped to a falsetto complete with a terrible Orlesian accent. "No, eet ees  _ your _ fault." She snorted. "When the stuffed shirts want details, blame's all they got." She shook her head. "Psssch. Like starvin' beasts out for blood. The whole lot."

"So what?” Athim shouted, her voice echoing down the sparse hallway. “They think they can dismantle the Inquisition without me there to defend it? As if I mean nothing?!”

Sera shrugged in a way that indicated she wouldn't be surprised. Athim made a sound of exasperation before turning and continuing her warpath to the council chambers. She felt Sera following on her heels.

"You sure you should be up and rushin about what with the- shit. Don't talk about it." She hissed the last bit of her sentence at herself.

Athim ignored Sera's self-chastisement. "What am I supposed to do? Lie down like nothing is happening?"

"Nah, get pissed. Love it when you're pissed. Baddies burn then."

They rounded the corner to a long hall which ended in a set of impressive double doors. There were guards stationed along the hall at regular intervals, all Orlesian and therefore masked, which spared Athim their shocked expressions at her state of undress. Athim had no attention to spare for them; she could hear voices beyond the doors.

"...I agree something must be done, but we cannot lose the Inquisition now. We stand on the brink of war with the Qunari!" said Duke Montfort: shining example of Orlais' worst qualities.

"Yes, because this  _ Solas _ provoked them in the first place!" Arl Teagan bellowed. Hearing Solas' name on his vicious tongue made Athim's blood boil.

"The Inquisition did not cause this threat. We informed the summit of the danger—" That was Josephine, always the peacekeeper.

"The danger caused by Qunari spies inside  _ your _ organization!" Every syllable out of the Arl's mouth increased Athim's desire to punch it.

"Without  _ our _ organization, none of us would be here to complain." And Cass, as impartial as she had ever been.

"You going in there?" Sera looked from Athim to the doors as they approached.

"Yep."

"Bugger. I oughta have a jacket for you or somethin'... Want me to knick you one off one of these ridiculous Orlesian ponces?" She gestured at the guards.

But Athim wasn't listening to Sera.

She headed straight for the doors only to have a guard step into her path.

"My Lady Inquisitor. You are not dressed for the Council chambers."

Sera gave him an incredulous look. "Oh come off it you knob. You really think you and your little knife can stop the Herald of Andraste?"

The guard looked between Sera's smirk and Athim's quickly darkening expression and thought better of his objection, stepping aside to let her pass.

Arl Teagan sighed loudly enough to be heard through the door. "No one has forgotten what you have done, but Corypheus is two years dead."

Duke Montfort took up the Arl’s line of thinking. "If the Inquisition is to continue, it must do so as a legitimate organization, not a glorified mercenary band."

Athim pushed the doors of the Chamber open with her good arm and marched inside, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. This was followed quickly by gasps and outcries at her appearance.

"Inquisitor?" Josephine looked just as shocked as any of the Orlesians.

"I don't recall you being so concerned with the Inquisition's pedigree when we were saving Empress Celene's life, Duke Montfort."

"M-My Lady Inquisitor!" Duke Montfort stammered. "You're awake!"

"Seems I am, and quite surprised to find these talks continuing in my absence."

Arl Teagan scoffed. "Continuing? You have rarely seen fit to be present since these talks began."

"You mean while I was preventing a Qunari invasion that would have sent all of southern Thedas into disarray?" She laid her palm on the table behind where Josephine stood looking aghast. "Or are you referring to something else?"

"We meant no disrespect, Lady Inquisitor. We merely wished to discuss-"

"Well I think you've done enough talking," Athim cut the Duke off and gave Arl Teagan a pointed look. "All of you."

Arl Teagan had gone red in the face. "How dare yo—"

Athim lifted the Inquisition tome, which had been lying on the table before her, with one hand. "You all know what this is."

The room had gone silent.

"A writ from Divine Justinia authorizing the formation of the Inquisition." She turned, making eye contact with as many people in the room as she could. "We pledged to close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order. With or without anyone's approval." She lowered the book and looked at its cover, emblazoned with the Inquisition's heraldry. A symbol which had come to define her entire existence.

Athim turned her blazing eyes back to Arl Teagan. "It wasn't a formally authorized treaty that saved Fereldan's people." She looked to Duke Montfort. "It wasn't careful diplomacy that ended your inane civil war. It was  _ never _ about the organization." The edge of anger in her voice was impossible to conceal. "It was about people doing what was necessary. Regular people giving up their lives when those in power abandoned them. Those people don't require your approval to continue doing what's right, and neither do I."

She held up the heavy tome in front of her. "Now, if you'll excuse me," Athim released the book and it slammed onto the ground with a sound that echoed through the entire chamber "I have a job to do." She turned on her heel and marched back the way she came. "Effective immediately the Inquisition is disbanded." 

Athim exited the room amid gasps and shouting. She did not stop walking until she closed the door of her suite behind her.


	2. You're Disappearing All the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to leave it all behind me  
> But I woke up and there they were beside me  
> And I don't believe it but I guess it's true  
> Some feelings, they can travel too  
> Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest  
> Makes it hard to catch my breath  
> I scramble for the light to change  
> You're always on my mind  
> You're always on my mind  
> -Wish that You were Here by Florence and the Machine

The Inquisition had been disbanded.

Unfortunately just announcing the words did not make it happen, regardless of how forcefully it was done. Fereldan and Orlais wanted official terms of disarmament drawn up and endorsed by all parties, including Divine Victoria.

“Of course they do.” Athim sat on the wide sill of the sitting room’s bay window. The room was classically Orlesian: lovely but gaudy. The walls were deep blue, peppered with the Valmont family crest, the dark wood was polished to a mirror shine, and everything was accented with gleaming gold. She felt out of place in her plain clothing. 

She gazed out over the gardens of the Winter Palace, the same gardens where she had fought Venatori forces and assassins to save Empress Celene’s life. She looked over at Josephine who was watching the elf with her quill held at the ready. “I’m guessing the ambassadors would rather I not be involved in that process?”

Josephine shook her head. "Quite the contrary, they have insisted you be present."

Athim raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to look sidelong at Josephine. "After the show I put on in the council chambers? I would think they'd both want me flayed alive."

"Despite the…" Josephine chewed the inside of her cheek as she struggled for the word, "unorthodox manner in which you presented yourself, your boldness appears to have impressed the ambassadors."

"If I had known that all I had to do to be taken seriously was show up with no shirt on, I would have done that day one."

Josephine rolled her eyes and sighed gently. “It will likely be less painful than the Council talks. Arl Teagan in particular has developed a much more agreeable temperament.”

Athim gave a bitter laugh. “Well, of course, he got what he wanted. I would imagine Duke Montfort is doing his best dignified pout.” She looked down and a shadow passed over her eyes. “Cassandra must be disappointed in me.”

“Athim, she will not be.” Their eyes met. “Cassandra has always respected your ability to make decisions when those around you are wracked with indecision. You have once again done what we have trusted you to do from the beginning. And of course, marching in undressed and furious is very much Cassandra's style." She flashed the other woman a bright look of pride and Athim tentatively attempted a similar expression in return.

Finding herself unable to maintain the cheery expression, she turned her gaze to the window again and studied the passing clouds with disinterest. She didn't want to concern the ambassador. 

“How long will this take Josie?” She sighed, a sound both annoyed and exhausted. “I want to go home.”

“A week I estimate, perhaps less.” Athim shifted her focus to watch in the window’s reflection as Josephine checked her notes. “I have already dispatched many of our retainers back to Skyhold to await further instructions."

Athim nodded slowly, mind drifting away from the matter at hand, her attention caught by the breeze carrying flower petals across the immaculate lawn.

_A week. Then another two weeks back to Skyhold. Where will he be by then? What will he have done?_

She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. There was no way to bypass the disarmament talks without alerting everyone to her distress, something she was determined to avoid as long as possible.

“Athim, did you hear me?” 

Josephine’s voice snapped Athim back to reality and she looked at the woman with eyes wider than intended. She realized Josephine had likely been talking the whole time and a flush of embarrassment flashed over her cheeks. “Josie, I’m so sorry, I was just thinking about what’s to come.”

Josephine nodded. “I understand, the disarmament will be an enormous undertaking considering the size of our forces.” She checked her notes again. “I was just saying I’ve requested Leliana and Commander Cullen remain at the Winter Palace for these talks as advisors.”

Athim nodded vigorously. “Yes. We’ll need them.” She knew very well that she didn't know enough to make the right choices. She would need her advisors to defer to the details. “What about our other friends?”

Setting her quill aside, Josephine pulled an envelope from among her papers. “Grand Enchanter Vivienne departed for the White Tower with her retainers this morning. She left this for you,” She held out the envelope to Athim who looked at it’s seal before raising her eyes to the ambassador, making no move to take it from her hand. In return Josephine looked confused before realization caught up with her, and her expression turned shameful .

“Of course, I apologize.” She ripped open the envelope, pulled out the letter inside, and placed it into Athim’s waiting right hand.

"It's alright, Josie." She flashed the ambassador what she hoped was a reassuring look, focusing on relaxing the tension she felt around her eyes. The number of small things she could not do on her own was growing enormously frustrating to the elf, who had always prided herself on being independent and self-sufficient. She hated needing help. She took a breath and unclenched her teeth. It wasn’t Josephine’s fault. Josephine smiled back, seeming to relax.

_My Dearest Athim,_

_I do hope you’re recovering well from your unfortunate injury. You’re such a strong individual, I doubt I could cope with such a loss with the same level of grace you’ve exhibited._

_For those of us called to a higher purpose duty never ceases, and so I must return with all haste to Val Royeaux. The events here are troubling to many and I must make myself available in the capital to advise and console any poor souls who find themselves in distress._

_You understand, of course._

_Grand Enchanter Vivienne_

Athim rolled her eyes.

"What did she say?"

The Inquisitor handed Josephine back the letter. "Madame de Fer extends her condolences but regretfully finds herself too busy and important to spend another moment in our presence."

Josephine smirked as she skimmed her eyes over the letter. As she read her eyes widened slightly. "Oh my. That is exactly what she said, isn't it?"

"The Lady of Iron doesn't mince words."

Josephine shook her head, a movement which reminded Athim of a duck shaking the water from its feathers, before tucking the letter away among her things. "No one else was as… formal in their departure, if they have done so."

"I think I'll walk around the palace today and get some air. While I'm out I'll make some inquiries as to who's still around." Apprehension tightened her muscles at the idea of seeing anyone. She rolled her neck hoping to release some tension, attempting to play the movement off as a relaxed stretch.

"A good idea. The demilitarization talks will likely begin tomorrow morning so today is yours to use as you wish." She sighed. "I, however, have many tasks to handle prior to said meetings, so I’ll be going.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I appreciate you coming by.” She hoped the other woman wouldn't notice the strain in her voice as she spoke.

“Of course. I appreciate you letting me in. I’m glad you are feeling better after what happened.” She gave a nod then swept out of Athim’s suite with the same taut energy she had entered with. Athim watched her go with a carefully controlled expression of complacency. 

As soon as the door latched, her face fell. The shaking in her limbs she had been suppressing in Josephine's presence resumed and her breathing turned into choking sobs. Athim pulled her knees close to her chest and buried her face in them, struggling to pull air into her heaving lungs as she waited for it to pass. The attacks got worse the longer she suppressed them. The more she tried to swallow the pain, the more her body rejected it. She rocked gently, focusing on her breathing.

_Harden your heart to a cutting edge._

Two years ago when he had disappeared she had ignored the pain, pushed it deep inside herself where no one could see. As time went on and it became clear he was not going to to return or send word she'd pushed that pain down, too. Every nightmare, every tremor, every tear was forced back. The pain had become a cold stone in her heart, an old wound ripped open and scarred over dozens of times. Seeing him again, hearing his voice, and touching him had cracked the stone, causing tendrils of pain to leak out and coil around her, an entangling briar which snared and snagged her every thought.

Slowly her breathing calmed, along with her racing heart. Athim felt her shaking slow until her limbs were still. She lifted her head from her knees and released them, letting her feet hang limply off the edge of the window seat.

Athim had stayed in her bedroom since her announcement that she would be disbanding the Inquisition two days prior. She had ricocheted between panic, anger, and sorrow, so frequently during that time that she hadn't trusted herself to be around other people. This was the first time in days that she had even ventured to the adjoining sitting room.

From experience she knew this would get easier. The emotions would fade and become easier to disguise. Within three months of his initial disappearance Athim’s friends had stopped asking how she was, finally believing when she said she was alright. The thought of a week trapped in a room with Arl Teagan and Duke Montfort made the tremors threaten to return. She couldn't break down during the meeting. Fereldan and Orlais would like nothing more than the opportunity to rip her and her remaining assets to pieces. The only reason they hadn't already was their respect and fear of her. She had to be the force they expected her to be or everyone she cared about would be left with nothing.

_What's the point? You know what's coming._

She looked out the window again, desperate for something to distract her as her breath caught in her throat. She tried to push the memory away before it materialized, but Solas' words came to her mind regardless.

_If they must die, I would rather they die in comfort._

She blinked away tears. Hopefully it would not come to that.

Outside, a pair of foxes had slipped into the royal gardens and were playing, trampling flower beds as they pounced. A genuine smile touched her lips as they caught her eye. She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, preparing herself for leaving the relative safety of her chambers. Athim hopped up and grabbed the capelet which Josephine had brought to her from one of the ornate plush chairs, tying it on with her right hand so it obscured her incomplete left arm and pulled up the hood. She hoped it would minimize the staring.

Slipping out of the palace, Athim kept an eye out for movement, hoping to avoid crossing paths with courtiers or Inquisition forces, but as she moved through the palace and exited onto the front terrace it was clear such caution was unnecessary. Josephine hadn’t been exaggerating about dismissing their forces back to Skyhold: Athim couldn’t see a single guard in Inquisition regalia. The various courtiers had also thinned out leaving the grounds around the fountain fairly deserted.

Her feet carried her left, along the terrace towards the storage room. She hadn’t intended to go there, but the moment she stepped foot outside the palace she knew she would. She needed to see it, to know it was there. Upon reaching the door, she found it closed. 

Anxiety tightened in her chest, followed by a wave of anger. Had it been moved? Had someone locked it away from her? Athim grabbed the doorknob and twisted, her anger making the movement more aggressive than she had intended, and it swung open. A flood of relief washed away her fury, but it was quickly replaced by alarm as she found the gleaming points of two halberds pointing directly at her chest. 

She should have anticipated a guard.

Her forceful entrance must have spooked them. She raised her one arm in a show of surrender, and the two Inquisition guards relaxed, the tips of their weapons drooping.

"Inquisitor!" One awkwardly straightened himself and his weapon, his compatriot following suit. "We beg your pardon. We heard the door and…" they both seemed embarrassed by their defensive response, but Athim shook her head and dropped her arm.

"I understand, it's quite alright." Without waiting for any kind of response she walked between the two of them into the room.

There it was. Right where it had been the last time she stepped through it. She couldn't contain the sigh that escaped her lips upon seeing it, both in relief at its continued presence and at the sheer beauty of the device. Even deactivated, the glass dimmed and appearing fogged, it was one of the most beautiful things she had even set eyes on.

"Can we do anything for you, Your Worship?" The second guard sounded as unsure as the first had. While Athim couldn't tear her eyes from the Eluvian she could tell the guards still stood by the door.

She didn’t have an answer for that and couldn’t take her eyes away from the mirror to offer any expression in response, so instead she gestured vaguely with her hand in their direction. "I just wanted to look at it." She felt the guards exchange a look at this, but she didn't have a mind to care.

She took slow, deliberate steps, approaching the mirror. It's foggy surface reflected her enraptured face. She apprehensively reached out with her right hand and her fingertips hit solid glass.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her palm against the mirror and inhaled deeply, suppressing tears. She had known it was deactivated, but in a deep, secret part of her mind, she had hoped it would open for her.

Athim pulled back her hand and looked up at the full height of the mirror. At that moment, she made a decision: She needed to see Leliana. 

She stepped back and she looked over at the guards who were watching her carefully, expressions blank. "Has anyone else come to see it?" They both shook their heads in unison. "And has it… done anything?"

"No, Your Worship." They both shook their heads again. She nodded, expression thoughtful, then headed for the door, walking between the two guards again. She placed her hand on the doorknob, then looked back at the pair. "I want to be informed immediately if anyone does come."

"Of course, Lady Inquisitor." They both saluted her. Athim gave another nod then exited into the bright morning light, closing the door behind her.

She skirted across the courtyard, beelining for the small pub which sat on the Palace grounds. She had a strong hunch that anyone who hadn't left would be there or nearby. As she got closer she heard Bull's cacophonous laugh echoing across the courtyard, which proved her assumption correct.

Athim had hoped to make a quiet entrance, sliding in without attracting too much attention, but unfortunately she only got half of her wish. She stepped through the doorway and a hush settled over the room as every eye in the building recognized her. She saw the shock in their expressions, the pity, and wide eyed fear. Whispers were exchanged, so quietly that she only noticed because of the subtle way people leaned into each other and half glimpsed moving lips. The silence tightened around her chest. She felt a tremor begin in her knees. 

_No, this is why you're here. Pull it together._

Swallowing hard, Athim forced the feeling away before taking a shaking breath and looking around the room. Along with some off duty guards and scouts, Bull and the chargers were there along with Sera, Thom, and Varric, who was on his feet heading in her direction.

"Hey Inquisitor, long time no see." Varric seemed to break the spell over the room and everyone returned to conversations and activities paused by her entry.

She put on a small smile for Varric. "Hey. Can't call me that anymore, remember?"

"What am I supposed to call you then, your name?" He laughed. "Not likely. I'll think of something."

Across the room, Bull gestured towards them. "Boss! Come have a seat."

Varric saw the pained look that crossed her face at that. "I'll make excuses for you if you like," he dropped his voice "I _am_ very good at it."

"It's fine. I should say hello, I suppose."

"And goodbye. Sera and Thom are heading for Skyhold in the morning with the last batch of guards not attached to Ruffles and the gang."

Athim swallowed and rubbed her suddenly sweaty palm against her thigh then gave him a nod before heading for their table. The last batch of guards meant scouts would be leaving as well. She needed to find Leliana soon. 

"There you are! Miss elfyness herself. And not just breeches this time." Sera sniggered and winked at Athim from where she sat on top of the table, a bottle of something cheap and potent in hand. Leaning back on her empty hand she tossed her head back to look at Bull upside down, expression smug . "Told you she'd turn up."

The Qunari gave a non-committal shrug. "Doesn't mean I was wrong."

"Well let's just ask her then," Thom took a swig from his tankard, leaving wisps of foam in his full moustache which he wiped away with one sleeve. He turned his dark eyes to Athim, raising one eyebrow. "What have you been up to?"

Athim concentrated on keeping her expression calm as memories flashed behind her eyes: 

_She gasped, choking through lungs worn raw from sobbing his name. She held herself tightly, knees pulled up to her chest, as she lay in the middle of the huge bed. She had no concept of how long she’d lain there, it could have been hours or days. The stabbing unrelenting pain of his absence was all she could feel, ripped raw by seeing him again after so long._

_Then, like a southern storm rolling in, the anger boiled up from deep inside her. The sobs receded, only to be replaced by a furious scream. She pushed herself off of the bed, grabbing the cover as she stood. She wanted to rip it, to tear it to shreds, but with only one hand the worst she could do was toss it to the floor in a heap. She screamed again, a guttural sound, this time at her inability to do anything. He had done that to her. Unthinking, blind with rage, she grabbed the next closest thing to her, the heavy damask curtains, and pulled. They resisted and she pulled again, harder. She could hear the metal of the holdings creak and groan as she kept pulling until with a snap they gave loose and crashed to the ground._

_“How are you any different from them?!” she screamed at the air, ripping books from shelves. She threw them hard enough that they bounced off the wall, spines snapping. “Callous monsters wrapped in pretty lies and pointed ears!” There was a snowglobe in her hand, plucked from a shelf or a table. She had no memory of picking it up or even seeing it prior. When it hit the wall it exploded into tiny shards which flew in every direction, she felt the glass cut tiny gashes in her cheeks and neck as they hit her. A halla statuette, placed in the room for her benefit she was sure, caught her eye. She knocked it from the table and stomped it to pieces, incoherent growls leaking from her throat even as the shards of porcelain cut into her feet._

_“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” She tried to overturn one of the plush sitting chairs and couldn’t. Her strength seemed to fade as she tried desperately to turn the chair over, eventually collapsing to the ground. As quick as it had appeared, the anger drained away and she buried her face into the rough, embroidered upholstery, unable to stem the torrent of tears that poured out of her._

"Recovering." She said with a shrug, biting her lip gently. “Resting mostly.”

“Ha!” Thom looked at the other two. “Told you. Pay up.” Bull and Sera both responded with grumbles before tossing the man a gold coin each.

“You bet on me?” Athim asked incredulously.

“On where you disappeared to.” Varric clarified with a chuckle. “Thom said you were resting, Bull was sure you had snuck out the back and Sera—” the rogue loudly snorted, interrupting him. He gave her an annoyed look and went on. “Sera’s bet involved you and Ruffles and Nightingale in your underthings. I don’t think it was a serious bet.”

Athim rolled her eyes before throwing Sera a disapproving glance, prompting laughter from everyone present.

“Wot? A girl can dream, can’t she?” She wiggled her eyebrows at the other elf.

"What are you drinking, Athim?" Thom asked after a hearty chuckle.

"Nothing right now. Just wanted to say hello. Varric says you two are headed back to Skyhold in the morning?"

Thom nodded. "We've had enough of the fancy Orlesian hospitality." Sera nodded her agreement. "You'll be following suit soon I expect?"

She shook her head. "Not as soon as I'd like. Josie says I'll be stuck here for another week."

"Another week?" Bull grinned. "Hear that boys? Another week of Orlesian wine and women!" The Chargers cheered.

"Why are you staying Bull?"

He gave Athim a sidelong look. "Because the Chargers are going to be your personal guard back to Skyhold."

She blinked at him, stunned. "Oh."

He chuckled. "Don't shower us in thanks."

"Thanks, Bull." She put a smile back on for him.

"I'll be heading out with you, too."

She looked down at Varric in surprise. "And what's your excuse?"

"Only way I could get away from Bran for a couple of weeks." Everyone nodded at that. They'd all been exposed to the annoyingly proper seneschal at some point during their stay at the Winter Palace.

"Has anyone seen Leliana today?" Bull, Sera, and Thom shared a bemused look at her question, Sera's eyebrows wagging again.

"I haven't, but you know she's somewhere. Check all the dark corners and keep an eye out for tacky footwear." Varric winked.

She nodded, a chuckle escaping her lips. "That's a good idea." She looked back at Sera and Thom. "I'll see you both back at Skyhold then."

"You better." Sera gave her a wink.

Thom chuckled. "I'll make sure she doesn't burn the place down before you arrive," he threw her a warning glance, "or fill it with bees."

"Again." Bull added. Sera cackled and Athim shook her head before giving a small wave and heading out of the pub.

"Don't you have a drink to finish?" Athim felt Varric at her elbow as she walked around the corner. She looked over at him disapprovingly and he shrugged.

"I wanted to ask how you were, without the audience."

"I'm fine." She answered too quickly. Varric’s eyes narrowed in doubt.

"Oh yeah, because when the love of my life who broke my heart reappears after two years without a word and rips off my arm I'm totally fine too."

"Oh well how nice. You’ve got all the answers right? Varric always has the fucking answers. You _clearly_ have such a perfect understanding of what I'm going through. Basically just a Thursday for you, huh?" She snapped at him, anger rising like a coiled snake in her stomach.

"Hey." He touched her arm gently and she shook him off, turning sharply to look at him.

" _I'm fine_ Varric! I don't need any of your clever advice." 

"It's okay to not be okay, Athim."

Her anger, and with it the color in her cheeks, drained away at his use of her name and she averted her eyes to the ground, regret bubbling up to take its place.

"I-I'm fine."

Varric took her hand in his. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I get that. I’m here when you do want to talk, alright?”

She looked at him and he gave her a weak smile, but his eyes were sad. “Varric. You being there wouldn’t have changed anything. It wasn’t your fault.”

Varric’s forehead creased with concern in a way that made him look much older than his years. He squeezed her hand as he nodded. “I know that.” He sighed. “Still sucks.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. “Yeah.” She tried to think of something, anything else to say to him which might release some of his responsibility, but couldn't. "I should go. I need to find Leliana."

He nodded and released her hand. "Don't be a stranger. We're all here for you."

"I know."

He turned and headed back to the pub. Watching him go, Athim let her smile fall away. She knew he meant what he said. Any of her friends would be there for her if she let them, but she couldn't. To let them in, she'd have to let too much out. She couldn't burden them with the knowledge she carried, not so soon after Corypheus. They had earned their rest.

Shaking herself to clear her mind, she turned away, heading back around to the courtyard. The sun had emerged from behind the clouds and the day was warming up quickly. All around her, life was making its presence known: birdsong filled the air and the smell of blooming flowers was cloyingly thick. Athim found herself getting too warm as she walked and threw back her hood, shaking out her crimson tresses. They had begun to brush her shoulders and the elf found she liked the feeling. She took a deep breath of the summer air and sighed. It was nice being outside after so many days in her suite. Walking alone in the sunshine it was easier to ignore the weight she carried. To imagine that everything _was_ fine.

A loud bark broke her from her reverie, followed by the sound of a quickly approaching Mabari hound. She offered her hands as the dog approached and he gratefully shoved his head into them, allowing her to scratch him.

"Oh, hullo good boy," she rubbed his ears and he leaned against her hard enough to push her over if she hadn't been prepared. The wardog weighed more than she did and was incredibly affectionate; a strong foundation was necessary for interacting with the beast.

"Where's your dad?" She looked around as Cullen wouldn't be far from the animal. "Hmmm? Can you take me to Cullen?" The dog barked in response before bounding away from her. He stopped about ten feet away and looked back.

"I'm coming," she set off after the animal who excitedly continued leading the way.

It didn't take long. Just around the corner of the baths they found Cullen deep in conversation with Leliana. They stood close together, heads tilted in as if they were concerned about being overheard. Athim couldn’t see anyone else in the area, but couldn’t fault the two for being cautious. They had found a spot of shade in the ever increasing heat of the day and she found herself eager to join them as she could feel sweat starting to drip down the small of her back.

"Hullo?" As the dog ran up to him, Cullen kneeled and vigorously pet the hound with both hands, scratching behind his ears. "Where did you get off too?"

"It looks like he was fetching," Leliana gave Athim a nod in greeting, which she returned.

Seeing Athim, Cullen's face brightened and he returned to petting the dog with renewed zeal. "Good boy! Who's a good boy? You are!"

Leliana chuckled behind her hand at the overly exuberant affection Cullen showered on the dog. She turned her attention back to Athim, giving her a warm smile. "Good to see you out and about, Athim. How are you feeling?"

Athim shrugged. "I'm fine."

Cullen straightened up. "You've been through a lot recently."

Leliana nodded. "If you need anything, you know we're here."

Athim felt unease rising in her, the tremor in her knee threatening to return. _Everyone is here for me. They don’t even know the danger they’re in._ She took a shaky breath, biting her lip, then plastered a smile across her face in an attempt to hide the anxiety boiling under the surface.

“I know. I really appreciate it.” Cullen returned her smile but Leliana looked at her too hard, a glint in her eye. Athim saw her eyes flick to her gently shaking knee then to her forehead where she could feel lines of worry. Leliana knew she was lying. The elf nervously dug one foot into the ground, avoiding eye contact with the woman. She was grateful that Cullen appeared oblivious to the silent exchange, continuing the conversation as normal.

“Did you hear we’re all stuck for another week?” Cullen looked miserable at the prospect, rubbing the back of his neck in what had become a familiar gesture of discomfort. “Do you have any idea how many marriage proposals I’ve received since you declared the Inquisition disbanded? These damned Orlesian fools seem to think I have nothing better to do than get married now.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you ran, but I’m glad you haven’t. I’ll need you to help deal with these… bureaucrats.” she said the word like it was a curse.

Cullen suppressed a laugh. “Always ready to serve, Inquisitor,” he saluted her and she chuckled nervously, pushing her hair out of her eyes to distract from how uncomfortable the gesture made her.

“Could I steal Leliana from you?” Athim asked hastily before elaborating, causing Leliana to quirk an eyebrow in question. “I have a personal matter I need to discuss with her.”

“Of course. We can finish our discussion later.” Cullen gave them both a nod and a wave, then he and the mabari started away, heading back towards the palace. Leliana stepped up to Athim’s side as they watched the man leave, close enough that the elf could feel the softness of her leather glove as it gently brushed against her bare arm.

“You need to work on your emotional response when you lie. It’s a miracle Cullen didn’t notice something amiss.” her voice was low and lacking in judgement or pity, which Athim was grateful for.

“I know, I’m working on it.” She felt Leliana look at her, studying her expression. She in turn studied the beautiful construction of the baths. Empty of people it was easier to appreciate the intricacies of the design and the careful craftsmanship. The sun glinted off the building as it would a multifaceted jewel and she found it’s beauty preferable to seeing Leliana’s searching eyes.

“What is this personal matter you wish to discuss, hmm?”

Athim swallowed hard and pulled her arm across her chest to hold her left shoulder. “It’s more a favor.” A courtier appeared at the bath’s entrance and she looked away quickly. She leaned in to Leliana a little harder, dropping her voice. “A favor that could, I suspect, get everyone involved in an awful lot of trouble if it were discovered.” 

Leliana smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "My favorite kind of favor."

Athim met Leliana’s eyes, expression serious. “I would not ask if it was not important.”

The spymaster nodded, her eyes moving away from the elf’s earnest amber ones toward the baths. She had noticed the courtier as well and, gently resting her hand on the small of Athim’s back, led them towards the palace. “I know you well enough to know that, Athim. Come, let's go to my study to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 4/16/2020:  
> Slight wording alterations


	3. Buried in Broken Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it fair, or is it fate?  
> No one knows  
> The stars choose their lovers, save my soul  
> It hurts just the same  
> And I can't tear myself away  
> Did we ever see it coming?  
> Will we ever let it go?  
> We are buried in broken dreams  
> We are knee-deep without a plea  
> I don't want to know what it's like to live without you  
> Don't want to know the other side of a world without you  
> -The Other Side by Ruelle

After speaking with Leliana, Athim decided to head back to her suite and rest, though she knew she shouldn’t. The more she avoided other people, the harder it would be when she had to be around them, but she was already exhausted from the interactions of the day.

She traced her hand over the expensive textured wallpaper of the palace halls as she walked slowly, enjoying the feeling of the repeating bumps and lines. She mused that while Orlesians may have been terrible people, they made beautiful buildings. Upon reaching her suite, Athim opened the door and froze, body tensed and heart racing.

The inner door to her bedroom was open.

Athim ran back over her actions that morning. She had absolutely closed it when speaking with Josephine but there it was, standing open. 

Adrenaline flooded her body as Athim pressed herself to the wall. A thousand scenarios raced through her mind ranging from the mundane to the outlandish. It was probably a maid taking the opportunity of her absence to tidy up.  _ But it could also be a Qunari assassin. _ Both were terrifying prospects. She took shallow breaths as she slid along the wall closer to the doorway. She was shaking as she cautiously peeked around the doorframe into the room. No arrows or spells shot out, which was a good start, but she couldn’t see anyone. She pulled her head back, taking a deep breath. Only about a third of the space was visible from the doorway, so not seeing anyone didn’t mean much.

Athim felt the underlying heat of anger beginning to rise up in her. She hated being afraid. She did her best to swallow it down. Irrational fury was not helpful but, as she stood shaking in the sitting room, that anger started to swell. How dare someone come into her space and make her feel this way? In her paranoid silence she could hear someone moving from inside. Athim held her breath, listening. The person was quietly walking around the sitting area to the room’s left, a space she had been unable to see during her quick peek inside. She wished she had a weapon.

_ You have magic _ .

She shook the thought away, dismissing it before she had a chance to give it much credence. Then she heard a sigh and her eyes narrowed. She recognized the huff. Pushing away from the wall Athim marched into the room, eyes locking on the culprit.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Dorian?!” The mage jumped up from the settee in alarm. “I thought you were a… I don’t even know what! You couldn’t wait outside like a rational person?!”

Dorian looked contrite. “Athy dear, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He came towards her but she turned away from him and slammed the door before beginning to pace the room. The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins.

“You can’t do that!” She was trying not to be angry, but wasn’t succeeding. “You can’t just come into someone’s space like that! I almost attacked you!” 

He watched her pace up and down the room for a moment, then Dorian closed the space between them and took her by the shoulders. The sudden stillness shocked her and left her feeling dizzy. 

“Athy.” Dorian met her eyes and gave her a little shake. “I’m sorry.”

After a small stunned silence Athim nodded and looked away from him. Her shoulders slumped as she physically deflated. 

"I came to check on you dear, Josephine said you were finally up to visitors."

She gave him a half-hearted smile. Of course Dorian would check in on her. "Thanks. I'm sorry for… that."

"Nothing to apologise for. You're right of course, after what you've gone through I should have been more thoughtful." She could tell he meant it. Dorian may have been a sarcastic bastard, but he was also her dearest, most earnest friend. He gestured to the seating area he had just vacated and she nodded. "Let's sit down?" 

She collapsed into a plush sitting chair with a groan and pulled her knees up to her chest. Dorian sat languidly opposite her on the settee.

"I suppose I don't have to ask how you're doing."

"I'm fine." She responded, the lie coming easily after telling it so many times. Her tone was casual, she almost believed it herself.

Dorian gave her a sceptical look. "You're absolutely miserable. You're a wreck and we both know it."

Athim chuckled, the sound becoming strained at the end. "Is it that obvious?"

"To me it is. And of course, there's this." He gestured around the room. It was in complete disarray. Curtains and linens laid in piles on the floor, shards of broken glass littered the room, and books lay strewn about with their pages ripped to shreds. 

"Josephine seemed positively stunned by how well you were doing. Just tired, she said. So you clearly put on a good show for her.” He sat forward on the couch, leaning into her slightly. “I'm guessing she was not the only person you saw today. How did they take your claims of normalcy?"

Athim shrugged. "Varric knew something was off. Leliana too. I'm sure Bull did, Ben-Hassrath and all that, but he wouldn't say anything."

"You've been through a lot..."

"So everyone keeps reminding me." There was irritation in her voice.

He put a hand up to stop her. "Let me finish. You've been through a lot and that's going to make hiding it all the more wearing, until you have time to refashion your costume, at least."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Athim crossed her arms defensively, eyes studying her bare feet.

"I, of course, mean no offence Athy, but that's bullshit.” She looked at him again, only moving her eyes. “Speaking as someone from a culture where hiding your every emotion is secondary only to breathing, and personally as… myself," he gestured at himself with both hands like a merchant drawing potential buyers eyes to their best wares. "You're very good at it. You've just gotten knocked off kilter and it's tripping you up."

Athim shrugged, the non-committal gesture acknowledging some truth to his words.

"And you can not afford to trip up in these disarmament negotiations."

Startled, she released her legs and let them drop off the chair to the floor. "How do you even know about them? I only just found out this morning."

"Because I'm going to be there.” Her face twisted with confusion at his words. “Oh don't look at me like that, you quite resemble a fish with your mouth hanging open."

Athim closed her mouth.

"Benefit of being the Tevinter Ambassador.” He explained, leaning back and crossed his legs at the knee. Unlike Athim, he looked completely comfortable in the grandiose decor. “They can't refuse me without causing national offence, so, despite having no function there, I get to be a part of your little diplomatic party."

"But, why do you want to?" He had to have requested to be included as there was no way either the Arl or the Duke would have included him. Even Cassandra, while friendly with the Tevinter Mage, would not invite scandal by requesting the presence of an Emperium representative. She couldn't fathom what could possibly motivate Dorian to attend a week of detail oriented political discussions; not that she wasn’t pleased at the prospect of having another ally in the room.

"To keep an eye on you,  _ obviously _ .” He made a gesture with one hand that indicated this was the most well known fact in all of Thedas. “Make sure those vultures don't get the upper hand." He shrugged. "Also, you must know those vultures keep all the best wine to themselves."

There was a knock at the door. "Ah, speaking of demons. Come right in!" He shouted and a moment later an elven servant entered carrying two wine glasses and two bottles of wine. She gave a small curtsey automatically as she entered then hesitated, eyes scanning the room and its disheveled state. 

Athim cast her eyes down and her face flushed with embarrassment. She tensed her shoulders up, overcome by the foolish desire to obscure her pointed ears. She knew the serving staff at the Winter Palace were primarily elves from her previous visit, but seeing this servant and recognising that she or someone like her would be responsible for cleaning up after her inability to control her emotions made Athim feel terrible.  _ As bad as an Orlesian  _ she thought.

The young woman regained her composure after a moment and brought the items she carried to the small table where they sat. She uncorked the bottles then stepped back. Unstopped, the wine released a thick, sweet smell which instantly seemed to permeate the room. "Will there be anything else madame and monsieur?" Her Orlesian accent was so thick Athim suspected it was affected rather than natural.

"Nothing else for now, thank you." Dorian gave her his warmest smile. She curtsied, averting her eyes and flushing at the mage’s grin, before going out the way she came. As she did, Athim felt her eyes lingering on her long enough to make the woman uncomfortable. She decided she had to clean the room herself before it was left to a servant.

"The way I see it, you have three options." Dorian leaned forward and picked up a bottle, keeping his eyes on Athim as he expertly poured two glasses of the deep burgundy wine. As usual, both were filled nearly to the brim. "You can try to hold it together as you have been and risk an unsavory incident at the talks. You can get drunk — always a valid option.” As he said this he placed one of the glasses into her hand. “ — Or you could  _ talk to me _ , Athy, let a little pressure off." Based on the expectant expression he wore it was clear which option the mage was in favor of.

Athim took a deep breath and drank her wine, consuming the entire glass. He was right, of course. It was irritating how often that was true. 

She couldn't maintain her current facade for a week, particularly not among personages she enjoyed as little as the Duke and the Arl. Something would give and she couldn’t shake the worry that if it did people who relied on her would suffer for it.

But she couldn't tell anyone the whole truth. 

Not even Dorian.

She set the empty glass down in front of Dorian and he gave a small chuckle. "Going with option B it seems."

She watched him fill her glass again before retrieving it. "Option C by way of B."

He gave her an understanding look. Throughout their friendship there had been only several instances when Athim had struggled opening up to the other mage. None of them had been pleasant. "That bad?"

"Yeah." She sounded defeated. She took a swallow of wine and sighed deeply, accepting the inevitability of the conversation, then finished the glass.

He watched her drink in silence, elbows resting on his knees and chin resting on his latticed fingers, giving her time to think. When she finished the wine she held the empty glass in her lap, watching the way the sunlight streaming in through the windows reflected and shone on the clear crystal. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She set the glass down on the table and crossed her ankles, face contemplative. She felt the buzzing of whys and worries and what-ifs in her head like dozens of mosquitoes. It was difficult to pull out any single thought, but the hum they created formed a single question which she let spill out of her mouth:

"Why did he have to come back?"

Tears flooded her eyes and she shut them, breathing becoming unstable as she fought to keep her composure.

"Athy," she opened her eyes again and looked at Dorian, who had extended one hand towards her. She took it, and he pulled her over to settle beside him on the couch. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and Athim planted her face into his chest, shuddering and gasping in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

"Oh, don't be foolish. Just cry. This isn't even my second best shirt."

Athim laughed but the sound quickly turned to sobs. She buried her face in the fabric of Dorian's shirt, crying as he held her and gently patted her back. 

She didn't know she had so many tears left.

After a while she quieted and her shoulders stilled. Athim kept her face nestled against the soft fabric of his shirt as her breathing returned to normal. When she pulled back from Dorian at last with a sniff, she found him watching her.

He smiled and patted her back once more. "Feel better?"

She sniffed again and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "A little, yeah."

"Good." Dorian retrieved her empty wine glass and refilled it as she settled more comfortably onto the sofa beside him. He placed the glass into Athim's hand for which she nodded her thanks before resting her head on Dorian's shoulder.

"I was fine—" she started, but Dorian snorted. "I was able to  _ fake _ fine, at least." she gently bumped her knee against his since her hand was full and she couldn't hit him.

"And now?" Dorian sipped his wine and draped his free hand around her shoulders.

"It's like when he first left all over again." She took a drink then shook her head. "No, worse I think."

"Still no closure about what happened? Did he even try to explain?"

Athim bit her lip and averted her eyes. "Some…"

He cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

Athim took another drink, giving herself time to choose her words carefully. "He thinks leaving protected me…" she rushed through her thought, leaving no room for Dorian to question her meaning. "All that time spent convincing myself that he didn't give a damn about me, literal years, wasted." She gave a sad chuckle and gazed into the deep red of her wine.

"He still loves me. He never stopped." She sighed; a wistful, devastated sound. "He said he never would."

"Then why?" Dorian asked softly. "Why leave you again?"

She looked at him without really focusing on him, thoughts far away. "He had something he needed to do. I wanted to go with him, to help, but he refused."

Dorian narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Something he needed to do? I would think the most important thing on his to do list would be  _ you _ ." Athim smirked involuntarily at the joke. "What could be more important than that?"

Athim looked away and chewed on her bottom lip. "He was… troubled… by what we discovered at the temple of Mythal…" she couldn't meet Dorian's eyes. "And by the destruction of Corypheus' orb." 

She threw a glance at her friend's face and saw the doubt seeping into his concerned expression. He didn't believe her. She bit her lip harder.

"Athy—"

"And discovering the truth about Inquisitor Ameridan." She cut him off, speaking too quickly. "Despite his apparent disdain for the Dalish and our city dwelling cousins the plight of the elvish people weighs heavily on him. He wants to change their lot, help them. He—"

"Athim!" Dorian's voice was so sharp that she jumped, wide eyes refocusing on him in alarm, but his expression was soft. "You don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying…" she mumbled, unable to meet his eyes. Her gaze shifted from him, to the wine on the table, to the painted ceiling, never settling on one thing.

"You don't need to carefully conceal by omission, then." He laughed gently and put his hand on her knee. "It's been less than a week. I understand if you're not ready to tell me everything. Letting off some pressure and full disclosure are worlds apart."

Athim took a deep breath. "Dorian Pavus, what did I do to deserve you as a friend?"

He shrugged. "Other than save the world as we know it no less than four times by my count, and somehow reconcile the seemingly endless rift between myself and my father?" He pretended to consider. "It's probably just your fantastic hair."

Athim laughed. "I'm thinking of growing it out."

Dorian looked shocked. "All of it?"

She shook her head. "Not the side if that's what you mean, just considering adding some length to the rest of it."

Dorian nodded enthusiastically. "Highly in favor. You'll have to let me have a go with it. You'd look dazzling with some curls."

"Of course!" Anthim laughed, grateful for the shift to a more light-hearted subject matter.

She felt better: more grounded, more in control. She could feel the rolling anxiety within her, but it was softer and more quiescent than before. She finished her glass of wine and held it out to Dorian to refill.

He chuckled. "I guess we have to finish them both, don't we?"

She nodded. "She did uncork both. It would be wasteful and irresponsible not to."

"Don't want the Orlesians to think we're averse to their wine."

"Just everything else about their culture and people."

They both laughed bombastically.

"Maybe these meetings won't be so bad," she mused hopefully. "We'll outnumber the bureaucrats three to one and there will be plenty of Orlesian wine."

"Does Josie not count as a bureaucrat for this?"

"I suppose she does, but she's  _ our _ bureaucrat so I won't hear a word against her." Athim stuck out one finger to wag chastisingly in his face.

Dorian looked aghast. "I wouldn't dream of it." He raised his glass in a toasting manner. "Here's to an expeditious and fruitful meeting with the fops."

She raised her glass as well. "May we get everything we want and burn the rest."

Their glasses met with a chime that sounded to Athim's ears like the bell signalling the start of a wrestling match.  _ Appropriate _ she thought, for although the physical fighting had come to an end she was about to begin a very different kind of battle, one that she was unprepared for. She felt beaten down and war-weary, staring down an impossible task with no plan, and even less confidence.

_ Just like old times. _


	4. I Don't Want Them to Know the Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't want them to know the secrets  
> I don't want them to know the way I loved you  
> I don't think they'd understand it, no  
> I don't think they would accept me, no  
> I loved, and I loved and I lost you  
> I loved, and I loved and I lost you  
> I loved, and I loved and I lost you  
> And it hurts like hell  
> Yeah, it hurts like hell  
> -Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie

Three days later Athim sat at a wide meeting table across from the diplomats, who were radiating a grating smugness, and felt her patience running thin. She looked over at Dorian, desperate exasperation in her eyes, pleading for some kind of rescue, but he instead quirked an eyebrow and threw her his signature smirk, raising his glass to her in a mock toast.

Josephine and Teagan were currently arguing over the Inquisition's remaining financial assets and to whom their ownership should revert. Again. Despite Josephine's opinion that the Arl's mood had improved since the Council, Athim could detect no change in his attitude towards her. He and Duke Montfort had spent the past three days of their meetings rejecting every proposed compromise her advisors had presented, all the while throwing dark glances towards Athim any time she deigned to speak, which was not often.

The conversation had moved in circles day after day, each item being set aside when a consensus could not be reached, only to be picked up again when they couldn't agree on anything. Athim had so far maintained her composure, though she was now beginning to fray.

Sitting around arguing over gold coins and men would not stop the Dread Wolf. She needed to get out of the winter palace. She needed to go home.

"What about the fortress? Hmm?" Duke Montfort's words ran through her, like the vibrations of a ringing bell, feeling like a physical assault and causing her wandering attention to suddenly bring her focus back to the man. "Skyhold, I believe the name is."

"What about it?" Athim smoothed the clipped, defensive edges from her tone as best she could. Beside her Leliana and Josephine exchanged a concerned look.  _ Don’t become a liability _ she told herself. She took a deep breath to steady herself and pulled her hand under the table, clenching then relaxing her muscles in an attempt to calm her growing irritation. 

"Well, technically it does not count among the Inquisition's assets. It never belonged to you in the first place."

"Duke Montfort, upon our arrival to Skyhold we endeavored to identify and contact the keep's rightful owner with no success." Josie's voice was casual. Meanwhile, in her lap under the table, Athim's fist tightened so hard she felt her fingernails cutting into the flesh of her palm as she struggled to control herself. "It has sat abandoned for centuries even as the land has shifted ownership between Fereldan and Orlais. Who is to say to whom it belongs?"

"The Inquisition has been housed in Skyhold for four years. Neither Orlais or Fereldan questioned its ownership in all that time." Athim managed to keep her tone steady. She felt herself slipping towards the edge of a breakdown; one of her knees had begun to tremor.

She focused her eyes on a golden sconce behind the Duke's head, not trusting herself to look at anyone in the room. Blood welled up in the crescents she'd cut into her hand as she tightened her fist again. The pain gave her something other than her fury to latch onto.

"Given the circumstances of your arrival at the keep I can assure you that use of it would have been granted without a second thought." The Duke's voice was flippant. "But with the sky healed and the Inquisition disbanded it seems the time has come to question."

Josephine put a hand on Athim's shoulder and squeezed, evidently feeling the tension radiating from her. "While we recognize the right of this Council to discuss the matter, our unified position is that Skyhold should remain with those who it has served for years."

"I must say I agree with Ambassador Montilyet, Duke Montfort." Cassandra spoke up, the statement made more significant by not only her holy vestments but by her silence through most of the proceedings. "I see no value in returning Skyhold to an abandoned relic."

"Thank you, Most Holy." Josephine squeezed Athim's shoulder again in reassurance as she spoke.

“Well, I disagree entirely.” Arl Teagan’s voice raked through the room. “While the borders have shifted the Keep is of Ferelden build. Ferelden should have a say in whose hands it ends up in.”

“Arl Teagan.” Josephine took her hand off Athim’s shoulder to place on the table in front of her. “Do you imply that you feel the Keep has been ill used in the last four years?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Then what exactly is your objection?”

“It’s the principal of the thing.” He sounded exasperated. “It doesn’t belong to you. Not that I’m surprised a savage apostate has trouble with the concept of ownership.”

Athim saw red. She pushed herself to her feet so hard that the heavy chair fell backwards, slamming into the stone floor with a sound that echoed throughout the chamber. Her eyes snapped the Fereldan. A shiver of hesitation shot through him at what he saw in her furious gaze.

“Arl Teagan!” Cassandra’s voice was hard. “Such comments are completely inappropriate and beneath you.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Dorian was on his feet as well.

Everyone shared a look of outrage as they turned hostile eyes on the Arl. Even Duke Montfort, whose face was obscured by his mask, pulled away from the other man in a way that indicated his displeasure.

Athim was hardly aware of these things however. Everything was dwarfed by the sound of her blood pumping in her ears.

“How. Dare. You.” She spat the words through clenched teeth. “I stood where others would not, led when others refused, and you call me a savage?”

Cullen was on his feet and rushing towards her. “Lavellan, perhaps we should take a bre—”

“We have given everything to Thedas, to Fereldan, and Orlais. And you  _ cowards  _ think you have the right to sit here and barter with what better people than you have built?”

“Now see here!” Teagan stood, hands flat on the table, expression twisted in anger.

Athim thrust her bloody hand at him, her accusatory finger inches from his face. “Fereldan’s people were starving and freezing to death while you hid safely behind high stone walls.” She was yelling now, furious tears sliding down her cheeks. “I risked my life every day to save them from that fate, and now you come for my  _ home _ ?”

“Athim—” Leliana was at her side now, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Athim shook her off.

“I’m nothing but a godless savage, right? An abomination to be rooted out.” The Arl had pulled back from her, his usual sneer replaced by an expression of something like fear, but she was too far gone to stop. The tears cascaded from her cheeks and fell in pools on the polished table. “I hope you one day learn what it feels like to have the foundations of your life ripped from beneath your feet as you are forced to thank the thieves and shake their hands.”

“Athim!” Dorian’s voice cut through her fury and she inhaled sharply, pulling her still bleeding hand back to her chest.

She looked around and saw the shock and pity on her friend’s faces. “I- I-” She stammered. It felt as if the air had been burned out of her lungs. Suddenly Dorian was at her elbow, taking her in his firm but gentle hold.

“Most Holy,” He addressed Cassandra. “I believe a recess of these proceedings are in order. Clearly tensions are running high and I think everyone could use some time to consider their position in these  _ peace _ talks.”

There was a moment of still silence, then Josephine, impressed by Dorian’s words, nodded her approval to the mage. As the moment passed, Cassandra stood.

“Well said, Magister Pavus.” She scanned her eyes over each person at the table. “For three days we have accomplished nothing. We will continue in the morning. It is my hope that everyone will be more cooperative at that time.”

As her steely gaze passed over each of them their expressions turned downcast and they nodded their assent. When Cassandra’s eyes found Athim’s she looked away quickly as her cheeks flushed with shame. The Arl's hands were balled into tight fists and for a moment he appeared about to speak, turning sharply toward Divine Victoria, but he instead gave what could only be described as a huff and stormed out of the room. Duke Montfort watched him go, then gave the Divine a deep now and retreated from the chamber himself, though in a far more subdued manner.

Before anyone could attempt to speak to her again, Dorian began leading Athim away. “You’ll excuse us, yes?”

“Dorian?” Josephine followed after them into the hallway. “Where are you taking her?”

“Trust me on this one, dear. Let me take care of her.” His voice was flat and serious, lacking any of his usual sarcasm. “Be a dear and have several bottles of wine delivered to Lady Lavellan’s chambers as soon as it’s reasonably possible, if you please ”

Josephine sighed. “Very well. I will trust you with this.”

“Thank you Josephine. Oh and do make sure it’s  _ good _ wine.” He gave a facsimile of his usual smirk, but the expression never touched his eyes and Josephine could see the worry around the edges. She stepped back, nodding her assent, then watched as he hurried Athim away down the corridor before returning to the meeting chamber.

Athim didn’t have a clear recollection of what happened next. Seemingly immediately she and Dorian were back in her suite and he was shoving a glass of wine into her hand.

“Drink. You’re wound tighter than a Nevarran burial shroud.”

Athim obeyed, throwing back the entire glass. Dorian refilled it, then guided her to sit on the settee, taking a seat beside her.

“So, it seems the Arl struck a nerve.” He turned his body to face her, watching as her eyes finally refocused on her surroundings, sipping his own wine.

“I hate that man.” Athim’s voice was rough and low. “I have never wanted to hurt someone as much as I want to hurt him.” She drank, not stopping until the glass was empty, then held the vessel out towards Dorian.

“I would never have guessed.” He said with a smirk as he once again refilled her cup with the rich, floral wine, though there was worry in his gaze.

She sighed, leaning back on the couch, and took another drink before letting the glass rest gently against her chest and dropping her head onto the couch’s back. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“No,” he drew out the word. “Well... maybe a little. But I think everyone was about to strangle one of them, so on behalf of everyone, thank you for falling on that sword.”

He was trying to make her laugh, she knew, but instead she threw back another glass like it was a shot of whiskey.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” Dorian didn't respond right away. She glanced at him and found him looking annoyingly amused, eyebrows raised, and leaning toward her eagerly. She rolled her eyes. “But we’re clearly going to so I don’t know why you asked.”

“Fair assessment of the situation, my dear.”

She glared at him in annoyance and sighed heavily, pulling her legs under her to find a comfortable position on the sofa.

“I-," she paused and took another breath before beginning again, gaze distant. "I’ve just been so angry ever since the counsel started,” she said as she studied the intricate weaving of the carpet beneath them. “Angry and… hurt.”

“Why?” Dorian tipped the last of the wine bottle into her empty glass, then filled his own from a second bottle.

“Because the Inquisition was all I had left, Dori.” her voice was louder than she had intended the anger she described spilling out in her voice. “I left my clan, gave up the only life I’d ever known to stop Corypheus. I built a new life within the Inquisition and I was  _ happy _ .”

Dorian watched, saying nothing as she threw back the third glass of wine and set it down upon the table too hard. She dragged a hand over her face then back through her hair. “After defeating Corypheus everything fell apart.”

Athim’s mind slipped back to the agony that had followed Solas’ disappearance. No explanations, no goodbye, no closure regarding what had happened between them in Crestwood. 

_ I distracted you from your duty. _

_ If we are both still alive afterward, then I promise you, everything will be made clear. _

But nothing had been made clear.

Solas was supposed to have been her  _ future _ ; her life after Corypheus was supposed to be with him.

She knew that it was childish, nothing but a pretty story she had told herself which had begun unraveling that night in Crestwood, and had fallen into tatters in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. But knowing that didn’t make it’s loss any less painful.

Dorian read the subtext of her words, acutely aware of what she alluded to. "And then everyone else left too."

She nodded. "I didn't blame anyone. I was never mad at you or the others for going back to your lives. We’d accomplished what we set out to do. But I-" her voice caught in her throat and she stopped to take another deep breath, reaching for Dorian’s hand. He let her take it, holding tightly "I had nothing left to go back to. The Inquisition had become my entire life."

There was understanding in Dorian's gaze. "And they wanted to take it from you."

Athim nodded, swallowing hard again to force back the sob she felt coming. "For Cass though I could play nice. Be the diplomatic Inquisitor. Ignore the fearful looks and dismissive comments. Ignore my anger on top of everything else."

“Everything else” was the pain and resentment she had been ignoring for two years. Pain she'd learned to live around because it was preferable to acknowledging it.

“Everything else” was how the mark had been growing more unstable for months before the Counsel; how it wasn't just emotional pain she had learned to paint a smile over.

“Everything else” was the barrage of questions about Solas she had endured upon her arrival at the Winter Palace; how each one wore on her weary heart, threatening to tear down her carefully constructed walls.

"The dead Qunari showing up was a welcome relief if I'm honest." She threw back what wine remained in her glass.

Dorian nodded knowingly. "Something other than the anger to focus on. An excuse not to think about it."

"Yes! But then everything was Solas!" She felt anger replacing her malaise and pushed herself to her feet, snatching the full glass of wine from Dorian's outstretched hand, leaving her own empty glass abandoned on the seat. 

"How am I supposed to ignore everything when  _ everything _ reminds me of the biggest thing I'm ignoring?" She began to unsteadily pace the sitting area as she drank. Dorian watched her, his posture rigid with concern.

"The ruins." Dorian had been there, he knew what she meant.

_ “What's this one supposed to be?” The Iron Bull was the first to see the next mural as he explored slightly ahead of the others. Athim trailed behind them, staring in awe at everything they passed, and as such she was the last to see the painted walls which wrapped around the huge wolf statue. _

_ “Why, it looks very much like…” Dorian faltered and looked back at Athim. _

_ “What is it—” then she saw them.  _

_ The words dropped out of her mouth and her eyes flicked from figure to figure along the walls. The marked faces, the magic pulling the ink from their skin, faces then bare and free. Her feet carried her forward even as her hands began to shake. The staff she held fell from her grasp, clattering to the ground.  _

_ Bull, who had remained ahead, turned at the sound. “Hey Boss, you alright?” _

_ Her hand touched the wall and she took a shaking breath. “He said they were slave markings…” her voice trembled. _

_ “Ar lasa mala revas. You are free.” As Cole said the words Athim suddenly found herself somewhere else: Crestwood, at night under the full moon. _

_ “No, no, no, no, no,” her voice was desperate and breaking, tears spilled abruptly down her cheeks. "Not there. Not now." She wound her fingers into her hair, pulling hard, trying to stop herself from remembering. _

_ “Athim?” Dorian ran to her side. “Athim what is it?” _

_ She didn't seem to hear him. “I— I don’t want to go back there. I can’t. Cole!” she was shaking uncontrollably. At her call the spirit instantly appeared before her, hands offered. She took them roughly and looked into his eyes, madness dancing at the edges of her own. “I can’t Cole, don’t let me.” _

_ His face was blank, the neutral mask he most often wore, but he nodded. Dorian felt the atmosphere shift around them and Athim's eyes closed. She took a shuddering breath, then her body stilled. _

_ "What's happened?" Dorian was breathless with worry, his attention bouncing between Athim's face, Cole, and their clasped hands. _

_ "They feel like her broken heart." Cole's eyes didn't leave her face as he spoke. "She had put it back together, though the puzzle was missing pieces, but the pictures make her remember the parts that won’t fit." _

_ Bull wandered close enough to hear the spirit's voice. "And what are you doing?" _

_ "Helping." _

_ Athim's eyes opened, meeting Cole's again. Some unspoken communication seemed to pass between them and Cole smiled gently. _

_ "Only pictures." He said softly. _

_ "Only pictures." Athim repeated, tears drying on her cheeks. _

_ “Athim?” She looked to Dorian and started at the worry painted across his face. _

_ “I’m alright,” she said quietly, offering him her hand which he took. Her eyes danced over the mural again. “I’d like to move on.” _

_ Everyone nodded. “Door out is this way.” Bull gestured before heading that way himself. _

_ “You sure you’re alright?” Dorian squeezed her hand. She looked back at him and gave a reassuring smile though it didn’t touch her eyes. _

_ “They’re only pictures.” As she spoke Cole was suddenly holding her discarded staff and placed it into her open hand. “They can’t hurt me.” She released Dorian’s hand and turned without another word, following The Iron Bull. Dorian watched her, concern still evident in his eyes. _

_ “Is she really alright?” _

_ He didn’t need to look at the spirit for Cole to know he was addressing him. “No.” the mage looked at him and found his eyes on Athim’s back. “It feels too much like home.” _

_ “Home?” The word confused Dorian. Athim didn’t often speak fondly of her time before the Inquisition. “Do you mean Wycome?” _

_ Cole shook his head. “Like him.” _

_ Dorian inhaled sharply as understanding dawned, and looked at Athim’s receding silhouette again. “She will be alright though, won’t she?” but he found himself alone and received no response. He sighed again, running a hand over his face uneasily, then hurried to catch up with the others. _

"And then he was there and it was like the last two years never happened." Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes and wine sloshed out of her glass as she gestured drunkenly. "And I was so mad. Mad about him leaving, about him hurting me for his own pride, about him not telling me the truth about who he was. I would have understood once he explained; I would have loved him anyway!"

The alcohol had well and truly caught up with her. Athim found herself talking faster and faster, words pouring out before her better judgement could stop them.

"Because I do! I do love him. Even after everything I love him more than I can bear. I love him so much that sometimes I feel as though I might burst. I don't care that he's Fen'Harel! I don't ca—"

Athim's mind caught up with her mouth, stopping it. The wine glass slid from her hand. It hit the ground with a muffled thud, the contents pouring over the carpet, staining it red. She clapped her hand over her mouth as if she could pull the words back and her body went stiff. Behind her she heard Dorian get to his feet and she could feel his eyes on her back. Slowly she turned to face him, hand still clasped over her traitorous mouth.

"Athy?"

Haltingly she removed her palm from her lips. "I-I didn't say that." Her voice was shaking. "You didn't hear that."

Dorian's expression was a mix of confusion and disbelief, he opened his mouth to speak but finding no words closed it again.

"I didn't…" her voice trailed off.

"You're being serious." Dorian crossed his arms across his chest.

Athim gave the smallest nod.

"So he's like Mythal then?"

She shook her head, not trusting her words yet.

"You're telling me that Solas, unwashed apostate, is  _ the _ Fen'Harel. The actual one. The one from the murals in the ruins."

Athim nodded again. When she spoke it was hardly above a whisper. "He slept for a milenia, since the fall of Arlathan." 

"He must be one of the most powerful beings in the whole of Thedas." Dorian put one hand to his chin in thought. A wave of relief washed over Athim. Dorian didn't question her belief or sanity, he accepted the facts as she presented them.

"Why would he join the Inquisition?

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and took a deep breath.

_ Careful. Don't tell him too much. Remember what's at stake. _

"Corypheus threatened the whole world, even him. The Anchor was the best chance of stopping him."

"I suppose…" Dorian tapped his chin, eyes up in thought. "But what on Earth is he doing now?"

Athim shrugged. "I told you before, he wouldn't let me help him." She couldn't tell him, couldn't weigh Dorian down with the truth. Not yet.

_ Then you would carry the same burden I do. _

"You can't tell anyone Dori. I don't…" she looked down. "I don't think everyone would understand…"

Dorian crossed to her and took Athim's hand in his. "Of course I won't, my dear." He touched her chin with one finger, drawing her eyes back up. "I swear it, Athy. Your secrets are as dear to me as my own."

She nodded gratefully. Dorian smiled and nodded curtly before releasing her hand,retrieving her glass from the floor.

"When did you find this out?"

"About a week ago. Beyond the final Eluvian where you couldn't follow."

He gave her a raised eyebrow, surprise coloring the familiar expression. "No wonder you're such a disaster." He once again filled her glass. "Two years with no word then suddenly in the middle of a Qunari invasion he reappears, snatches your arm away, and oh by the way, _ I'm a literal god _ ."

Athim took the offered drink, the whisper of a smirk on the corner of her lips.

"Why couldn't you have fallen in love with Thom or Cullen? Someone safe and  _ boring _ ?"

That made her laugh and Dorian gave her a grin.

“Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with you? Just as unattainable but without the complications.”

Dorian feigned a look of hurt. “Are you telling me you’re  _ not  _ in love with me?”

Athim laughed again and collapsed onto the couch. Dorian resumed his seat beside her and she leaned her head onto his shoulder automatically, sipping her wine at a less hectic pace.

“I just want to go home, Dori.”

_ I need to find him. _

“I know dear.” He patted her knee. “I think Teagan might have wet himself when you started screaming at him, so hopefully he’ll be a little more willing to bargain tomorrow.”

"He was already scared of me."

"Intimidated, dear.  _ Now _ he's scared. That's what happens when you shove a bloody hand in someone's face. Speaking of, let me see it."

She set down her wine glass so she could hold her palm out to the other mage. The blood had dried to a deep brick red. Dorian examined the small half moon lacerations and tutted gently.

"You must have really been holding back, these are far deeper than I expected." 

"I'm very attached to the old castle." She half shrugged, keeping her hand still in his. "It was a gift."

Dorian turned his eyes from her hand to glance at her through his lashes. He said nothing but Athim knew what he was thinking. He placed one of his palms over hers and cast a simple healing spell. 

It was a slight magic, something a child could do, but he was so close that when he dipped into the Fade, part of her went with him. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine and her lips parted unconsciously. The familiar scent and vibration, the pure magic tingling over her skin, the completeness she felt in that place that was more home to her than any physical location had ever been. She reached for it involuntarily; she had missed it so. 

Then Solas' face flashed before her eyes and she could feel the phantom touch of his hand on hers. The touch of the Fade was so intrinsically tied with her memories of him that it was like a fist tightening around her heart. She roughly pulled her hand away from Dorian and held it close to her chest, closing her eyes against the visions in her mind.

"Hey! Athy—" She opened her eyes, recovering quickly, and found Dorian looking at her with his brows pulled down and lips pursed.

"Haha, sorry," she rubbed the back of her neck and bit her lip. "Startled me."

"You're lying."

"Am not."

"You only bite your lip when you lie, literally everyone knows that."

She narrowed her eyes. "Everyone?"

He crossed his arms and nodded, one eyebrow raised and wearing the smug smirk he so loved. "Everyone."

She sighed. "Okay fine I'm lying. It's just… too soon…" Her eyes dropped to her left arm for a moment then back up to Dorian. Looking at it was still difficult.

"I understand. I'm sorry." He put a hand on her elbow and met her eyes. "Let's at least get it cleaned up, yes?"

She nodded. "Alright. But then we will finish this bottle with no more mention of magic or councils or anything related to my horrific life." She shook herself like a wet dog, trying to throw off the awful memories she felt herself drenched in. "I just need… to not think for one night.

Dorian's gaze was still worried, but behind that was understanding. He knew what it was to need that escape and so, despite his concerns, he could not in that moment deny her. "If not thinking is the goal I'll have to get more wine." He started away, but turned back before leaving the room. "It will get better Athy. I promise everything will end up alright."

She watched him go, desperately wanting to believe his words, despite knowing better than anyone that he was wrong.


	5. The World was On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world was on fire and no one could save me but you  
> It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
> I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you  
> And I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you  
> No, I don't want to fall in love  
> No, I don't want to fall in love  
> With you  
> With you  
> -Wicked Game by Ursine Vulpine feat. Annaca

"Hey." Athim looked up from her packing to see Varric leaning against the doorframe, hands clasped before him, smiling gently. "Mind if I come in?"

Athim shook her head, genuinely pleased to see him. "Not at all." She was preparing to depart. Clothing, armor, and weapons were laid out over the top of the bed ready to be packed into the open case which sat beside them, and a larger chest which rested by her feet. 

She was packing her things alone, at her own insistence. The task was proving far more difficult than she had anticipated with only one hand. She repeatedly reached forward with her incomplete left arm as she worked, her brain was not used to its current lack of function yet. Each time this happened she grew more frustrated with the unconscious gesture. Her brow furrowed. Varric watched as he crossed the room, concern clear in his eyes.

"Want some help with that stuff?" I've got time."

"No!" Athim replied sharply, then bit her tongue. Angry at herself for snapping at him. "No, thank you," she took a breath and softened her tone considerably. "It's important to me to do it myself."

Varric put up his hands in surrender and leaned against one of the heavy chairs. "Heard the disarmament chats ended up going alright in the end. Everyone is being pretty hush hush about it though. Can't get a word out of Ruffles."

She shrugged. "I'm happy it's over with. I can finally go home."

"To Skyhold, I hope."

She looked up at him and found his eyebrows raised. She put down the clothing in her hand and sat on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh trying to suppress the embarrassment she felt. "I'm guessing you heard about that part of it, then."

"Everyone in a ten mile radius heard it."

The former inquisitor groaned and put her hand over her face. The discussions had gone smoother after their unscheduled recess, but for the next two days Arl Teagan had gone out of his way to avoid making eye contact with her, throwing her furtive, fearful glances when he thought she wasn't looking.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it too much. I mean, what are the chances you're ever going to have to see those idiots again?"

"Well considering I'm now a Bann of Fereldan and a Baroness of Orlais the chances are exponentially higher than they were a few days ago." She sounded tired, even to her own ears. Varric gaped at her, eyes wide. Watching his reaction she smiled unconsciously. "What?"

"You're joking. You have to be."

She shook her head. "I was officially granted the deed for Skyhold and the surrounding land. Since the borders in that area are so uncertain, both countries granted me titles so my ownership can never be contested." She said it like it was a bad joke, mirthless humor coloring her voice.

"Let me get this straight." Varric pushed away from the chair and held his hands out, palms up. "In one day you went from being the most powerful nobody in the known world to holding noble titles in three nations?"

Athim nodded, then narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Three?"

"Well, you're still a Comtesse in Kirkwall."

It took a moment, but Athim laughed, throwing her head back. "I suppose I did."

"What about the rest of it?" He smiled, satisfied that he had made her laugh.

"Military forces will be substantially reduced. As a noble house," she rolled her eyes as she said the words, "I am entitled to a small army. Leliana and Cullen will make the decision on who stays and who goes. Volunteers at first, then dismissals as necessary. We'll have to pull all military forces stationed in Fereldan and Orlais, but word has already been sent for them to return." She gave an apathetic shrug. "Serving staff will also be reduced, but that's more a matter of finances than anything."

"And the Nightingale's spies?" Varric raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

"It's odd, they never got brought up. 'One can't begin to regulate something which no one in the room will admit exists.' Dorian said," she did her best impression of the Tevinter. "That seems to be an accurate assessment of the situation."

Varric howled with laughter. “Everything in your life is so unbelievable that if I put it in a book my readers would riot.” He wiped his eyes. “So what is the Bann Baroness Comtesse going to do with her unregulated spy network?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something I’m sure…” her eyes unfocused as she thought of Solas, her mind slipping back to when she saw him. Resplendent in Golden armor, eyes clouded with sadness. A light rap on the open door caught her attention, both she and Varric turning to see who it was.

“Speaking of demons,” Varric gave a short bark of laughter when he saw Leliana at the door. The amused smile on her face seemed to indicate that she had been standing there observing for a time before she knocked. While she was dressed mundanely Athim noticed her fashionable shoes, red velvet with tiny mirrored disks and glass beads worked along the edges.

"Morning, Varric. Athim. Am I interrupting?"

"Good morning, Leliana. Come in." Athim stood and gestured for the Spymaster to enter.

She did and took up a position near the foot of the bed, eyes flicking over the laid out items and empty cases. "A lot to pack. Would you like any help?"

Athim shook her head firmly. "No, but thank you."

"I already tried, Nightingale. She wouldn't hear of it."

"I'm not surprised," she laughed quietly. "Our Athim doesn't accept help lightly."

"Come to check up on me?" Athim resumed folding clothes one-handed in spite of them both.

"Not at all. I came to let you know that Josephine and Cullen departed early this morning with the last of the troops. The Iron Bull informed me that you would be departing at dawn tomorrow."

The elf and dwarf both nodded. "That was the plan. Hence the," she gestured at the mass of objects on the bed, "packing."

"Dorian is tagging along with us as well." Varric tossed in, once again leaning against the sitting chair. Both women's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"He is?"

"I assumed he would be heading directly back to Minrathous." Leliana mused. "It's a shorter journey from here than from Skyhold."

Varric shrugged. "He said something about the banalities of court. I assume it has more to do with wanting to keep an eye on  _ this one _ for a little longer." He gestured with a thumb at Athim.

She rolled her eyes in response. "Leliana, while you're here," she began transferring weapons into the chest, hoping to make the question seem as nonchalant as possible. "Was the matter I brought to your attention taken care of?"

Taking Athim's cue, she answered casually. "Yes, the request has been handled." 

"I expect there was no trouble completing the request?"

Leliana shook her head, unable to contain the proud smile which graced her lips. "None at all per my agent's report. The requested asset will be awaiting you at Skyhold upon your return."

"Thank you, Leliana." The elf's relieved smile was genuine for once and she felt one of the many knots in her chest loosen. "And thank you for your discretion in this matter."

"Of course. I'll leave you to your preparations." Athim gave the Spymaster a nod of farewell and returned to her packing.

Varric watched Leliana leave, then turned his shrewd attention to the elf. "What was  _ that  _ about?" 

"Hmm?" Athim stopped herself from anxiously biting her lip. "Oh, nothing. Just a requisition she handled for me."

"Uh-huh." Varric crossed his arms and studied her face.

She met his gaze, voice suddenly hard and vaguely threatening. "It's personal."

He threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets."

"I intend to."

"May I intrude?"

Both of them jumped in alarm, their attention had been so focused on one another that they had not only missed the woman’s entrance, but also her standing directly next to them. Moving deftly in heavy armor for decades had made her uncannily light on her feet for a warrior.

“Divine Victoria,”

“Cass—” Varric and Athim spoke at the same time. The elf gave him a quick look of confusion at his use of her title and he gave her a shrug in response.

“I wonder if I might steal some of the Inquisitor’s time.” Cassandra was not dressed in the vestments of her station.The casual manner of her greeting sent a wave of nostalgia through Athim.

“Of course.” She tossed an apologetic look at the dwarf, smiling sheepishly. “See you at dawn, Varric.” She’d have plenty of time with him on the road of course. Cassandra however, Athim feared it would be a long time before they had another chance to speak privately.

He chuckled and stretched, palms pressed to the small of his back, then gave her a wink as he headed for the door. “I bet you a sovereign the Chargers show up late and hungover.” Varric nodded his goodbye to Cassandra, who did the same. The former warrior turned to watch him leave. 

“Do not take that bet.” She looked back at Athim and rolled her eyes, the beguiled smirk on her lips betraying the disdainful tilt of her voice. "Planning on leaving without saying goodbye?"

"No, of course not.” Her eyes widened in alarm that Cassandra would even suggest such a thing. “You’ve been busy. There never seemed to be a good time to visit.”

“That is true, but I am always willing to make time for you, my friend.” She gave the elf a smile which she returned, shoulders relaxing. Athim sat down on the edge of the bed and without being prompted, Cassandra closed the door and joined her.

“I hear you’ll be heading directly to the Grand Cathedral.” Athim didn’t look at the other woman when she said this. Cassandra nodded.

“Yes. I’m told that I’ve stayed away for too long already. The hens who fuss over me would have me vanish in the night with no word to anyone.” She put a hand gingerly on top of Athim’s. Her palm was calloused and rough, but the tenderness of the touch was evident. “I could not do so to you.” Athim smiled, but the slump of her shoulders and the way she rubbed the back of her calf with the opposite foot belied the complexity of her emotions. The thought that the Divine would make the world wait for her was outlandish, yet here she was. It was humbling. 

“What will I do without you Cass? No one threatens the uppity mages like you do.” Cassandra gave a low chuckle, bumping her shoulder gently against the other woman’s in a playfully berating way.

“I wish I could accompany you to Skyhold and say my goodbyes to everyone there. I will find the time to get away, you have my word. I fear most everyone will have departed by that time.” Athim’s expression fell slightly. Cassandra appeared to notice, changing the subject. "I was very impressed with your speech at the Exalted Council," she smiled, "No one was expecting such a proclamation. You were a force beyond their comprehension."

"Well I had to pick something up from you after all these years." Athim’s face once again brightened, glad for an opportunity to defuse the conversation with humor. "Honestly? I was hoping to pick up the accent." They both giggled, a tittering girlish sound which neither would ever make in a different person’s presence.

"My dear friend, how I shall miss you. The Sunburst Throne, like so many positions of power, can be desperately lonely despite being constantly surrounded by people." She gave Athim a curt nod, "as I'm sure you well know, Herald."

The elf shrugged. "I was surrounded by those who meant the most to me," she turned her hand over to squeeze Cassandra's gently. "You helped keep me grounded when the tide of followers threatened to wash me away. Thank you for never letting me forget who I was." The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by bird song from outside. Athim forgot that Cassandra was holding her hand until the other woman squeezed it. 

“We haven’t had a chance to talk about… what happened.” She took a deep breath. "I only know what Dorian and the others told us when they came back…"

_ The Inquisitor was dying.  _

_ Cullen felt they needed to know. The mark on her hand was killing her as it became more unstable. Athim had told them that she didn't know how long she had left, but she refused to entertain the notion of not personally continuing after the Viddasala. They didn't know if she would come back alive or at all.  _

_ Initially the Eluvian had been surrounded by armed Inquisition soldiers but they had been replaced by the Inquisitor's advisers and inner circle. Most of them were more armed than the guards had been. The wait was excruciating and the silence was deafening.  _

_ The inquisition guards found new purpose keeping out the diplomats and Divine Victoria's entourage as the minutes ticked into hours of anxious anticipation. Food was brought but no one could eat, the more time went by the more their worry grew, twisting their stomachs.  _

_ At last the Eluvian shimmered and Dorian stepped through followed by Cole and the Iron Bull, weapons still drawn. The relief on the faces of those waiting was quickly wiped away when he spoke: _

_ "Where is Athim?" _

_ She had gone through ahead of them in pursuit of the Viddasala. But where was she? And why had the Eluvian deposited her companions back in The Winter Palace? They were at a loss. Leliana suggested that someone could have redirected the Eluvian they passed through in order to separate Athim from the others. Theoretically to do so would have taken an immense amount of power, an amount the Viddasala seemed unlikely to possess. And what would be the purpose of such an action?  _

_ There was nothing they could do but continue to wait. _

_ The first light of dawn was just creeping over the palace when the Eluvian shimmered again and Athim stumbled through, collapsing into Dorian's waiting arms. _

_ "Athim! Athim! What happened?" Her eyes were unfocused with shock and pain and she didn't seem to know where she was. _

_ "Solas." She whispered the name so quietly that Dorian had to lean over her to hear. "He saved my life… again." Then she closed her eyes. _

_ "Where is he Athim? Where is Solas? Where did you go?" But she was unconscious and could not be roused.  _

_ It was Cole who noticed her arm, felt the missing anchor, and brought everyone's attention to it. Amputated just above the left elbow, the skin raw and smooth all at once like a freshly healed wound.  _

_ The Eluvian had deactivated behind her passing; its glass reflected only the horrified expressions of those in the room... _

Athim remembered that night. She could see that Cassandra did as well. The woman’s eyes turned glassy at the memory, gaze filled with the reflection of their shared terror. Athim quickly looked away.

"What do you want to know?" She still hadn't spoken about what had transpired beyond that final Eluvian to anyone but Dorian. Cassandra seemed at a loss. Athim watched her struggle for words, she knew there would be many questions she wanted to ask.

"Your arm…" She seemed embarrassed to bring it up. "How did it happen?" Athim looked down at her bare upper arm. She kept it covered in public but she hated the feeling of pinned up sleeves. Josephine was having some of her clothes tailored to accommodate the change but until they were ready she went without when she was alone. In the days since that night the rawness had passed.

"It was going to kill me. I felt it eating away at me; it would have consumed me entirely if—" her voice caught in her throat and she shut her eyes tight. "If he hadn't been there..." Cass squeezed her hand. Athim smiled forlornly. "Solas used his magic to stop it from destroying more than my arm. He saved as much as he could." She looked up at the lions and maidens in their golden gowns painted on the ceiling in an effort to keep her composure. 

She had watched in horror as the magic had begun to disintegrate her flesh. Solas' spell meant she no longer felt the pain, but she'd watched it happening before he had turned her head away, telling her to focus on him rather than it. The way her flesh had melted, boiling back and dripping with the staticky green magic she had become so familiar with it no longer frightened her. The terror of realizing what was happening and knowing there was no way to stop it. Then the taste of his lips like elderberries, chasing away the fear, making her feel safe. His arms had locked around her like they would never let go.  _ Until they did _ .

"He told me he was sorry; that there was no other way." She chuckled bitterly. "He apologized for saving my life." Cassandra released Athim's hand and put her arms around her shoulders, embracing her tightly. Athim put her right arm around Cassandra's back, returning the hug as best she could as she sniffed back tears. "It's alright Cass. I'm alright now."

"Physically maybe," Cassandra released her, keeping her left arm around the smaller woman's shoulders. "Less than a fortnight is so little time to recover from such a loss." Cassandra's tone and expression made it clear she was not just talking about the literal loss of her limb. There was a hardness in the woman's eyes that Athim recognized. 

She remembered the way Dorian and Bull had looked at her when she tore after the Viddasala; when she emphatically swore to save him with no regard for her own safety. They had seen what his sudden disappearance two years prior had done to her, they all had. And then he had been there when her world once again turned inside-out. 

She didn't blame them for their anger with Solas, even not knowing what she knew. She could feel her own anger, still there, burning below the surface of her skin. It hadn’t changed how she felt about him.

Athim nodded and took a deep breath. Her eyes cleared. "It will take time, I know that." She smiled. "Divine-willing I'll be back to my old self soon enough." Cassandra rolled her eyes at the joke.

There was a soft rap at the door. "Your Perfection." The voice was muffled by the wood but based on Cassandra's exasperated sigh she still recognized it. "The faithful request your presence in the chapel for afternoon benedictions."

"Thank you. I shall return to my chambers presently to be dressed. Please ensure my vestments are prepared."

"At once, Most Holy." Cassandra sighed as the messenger’s footsteps receded. Athim stared at her, wide-eyed. "What?!"

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

"To what, exactly?

"Just... you as the Divine."

Cassandra laughed and stood, setting her hand upon Athim's right shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For never letting me forget who I am." They shared a smile and Cassandra headed for the door. As she opened it she turned back to Athim. 

"There is always room at the Divine's side for the Herald of Andraste. The Right Hand and the Left Hand may extend my reach, but you are my heart. You remind me why all this matters. Remember that." Athim nodded her thanks. Cassandra returned it before heading out of the room. 

Athim gazed down at the pile of things she still needed to fold and pack into her chest. Just seeing how much she had left made her hand cramp. She considered seeking help for a moment; Dorian and Varric would both likely welcome the opportunity to both assist her and give her a hard time about asking for it.

Instead, she closed the door and returned to packing alone.


	6. Shadows Settle on the Place that You Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette,  
> I'm a lifeless face that you'll soon forget,  
> My eyes are damp from the words you left,  
> Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.  
> Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.  
> And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,  
> 'Cause most of us are bitter over someone.  
> Setting fire to our insides for fun,  
> To distract our hearts from ever missing them.  
> But I'm forever missing him.  
> -Youth by Daughter

The journey back to Skyhold was a welcome relief: long days of riding, ample distractions, alcohol, and dreamless, exhaustion-induced sleep. All of it helped keep Athim's thoughts from wandering to the darkened recesses of her mind and gave her time to slide back into her comfortable lie. Dorian, Varric, and Bull also seemed eager for a chance to relax after what had happened at the Exalted Council

According to Varric, Bran had initially intended to accompany their little group in order to stay close to the Viscount; he had however told the Seneschal 'not over his dead body' and sent him packing with a group that had left for Skyhold days earlier.

"I was nearby for this conversation, and I can assure you that the language used was far more colorful than Varric lets on." Dorian seemed nearly impressed.

"The man is a dour stick in the mud," by the light of the campfire, Varric looked weary. "If this was to be my last adventure with my friends I was not going to let him have any part of it. He needed some convincing, is all." He shrugged.

Dorian raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Bran and I have more in common that I would have imagined. I also find explicit descriptions of where I can 'stick it' _very_ convincing." 

The Chargers, who were scattered around the fire, howled with laughter, The Iron Bull loudest of all. "Krem! Open another cask!"

"They won't last the trip at this rate, Chief!" Krem dutifully pulled a full cask out of their wagon.

"We can stop and stock up," he turned his eye to Athim. "Right, Boss?"

"Absolutely," she slurred in response. "If I have to spend one moment of this trip sober I will hold the Chargers personally responsible and deal with them accordingly." A cry of dismay went up from the group. "You wanted to be my escort! You have no one to blame but yourselves."

"What kind of punishment did you have in mind? Lashings?" Varric's weary look dissipated as he chuckled.

"No, they'd like that far too much." Another roar of laughter overtook the camp site.

The trip itself was free of conflict, which was fortunate as nearly the entire traveling party spent it either aggressively drunk or fiercely hungover. When they arrived at Skyhold they found the dissolution of the Inquisition had already begun. Skyhold had become a much quieter place overnight as individuals at all levels, from military to servants, took the opportunity to enjoy the peace which the Inquisition had wrought. The vacancies suited Athim as she had grown weary of the near constant salutes and use of her now defunct title. 

She needed Leliana, but the spymaster was consistently occupied with the disarmament: meeting with Cullen regarding dismissals, tracking down field agents, and reorganizing what was now a slightly smaller and non-sanctioned spy network. Josephine was similarly busy dealing with the political ramifications of the organization’s end and Athim’s new titles. Without either of them Athim was unable to search for Solas in earnest. To combat the frustration this caused she turned to reading every scrap of information she could find on ancient Arlathan and saying goodbye to those leaving her service. It came as little surprise to her when Athim’s closest compatriots began to make their goodbyes as well: Thom Rainer hugged her so hard when he left she wasn’t sure she’d ever breathe again. He didn’t know where he was going, but he promised that he would write when he remembered and visit when he could. Both Sera and The Iron Bull (and by extension the Chargers) returned to their respective semi transient lifestyles, but chose to use Skyhold as their base of operations. As the forces at Skyhold began to disburse Cullen also left with a promise to return if he was needed.

Saying goodbye to Dorian was going to be the hardest. Both he and Athim knew this, so they didn’t discuss his departure much before it happened. But it stood to reason that he couldn’t keep away from Minrathous and his future appointment for long.

“How did I know I would find you here?” Athim had been reading that morning and looked up from her book to find Dorian, dressed for the road, standing in the rotunda’s door. In the last two years the room had become her near permanent haunt, the beautiful frescos which adorned the walls equal parts comforting and painful. Her spirits lifted seeing him, but his riding gear dampened the typically bright smile his presence brought on.

“You’re leaving.” 

“I am,” Dorian sat down heavily beside her with a sigh. “Responsibilities can only go unanswered for so long.”

“Tell that to Varric.” 

Dorian laughed at that, but the expression never quite reached his eyes.“Not all of us can be perpetually absent Viscounts, unfortunately.” The two shared a smile at this for a moment but their faces fell quickly and an unsteady silence settled on the room. She didn't know what to say. How does one say goodbye to their reflection?

"I'm going to miss you desperately," he broke the silence and put his arm around her shoulders. She laid her head against him, the movement familiar and comfortable. _Another thing to miss,_ she reflected sadly.

"I hate that you have to go," she was very intentionally not looking at him, doing what she could to avoid the tears she knew would come. Dorian squeezed her shoulders a little tighter.

"I have had a bad string of good luck. Meeting you, only to reconcile with my father just in time to have his title handed down to me." He gave a bitter chuckle. "I used to think that the idea of 'too much of a good thing' was utter nonsense. Yet another of my prejudiced, inherited opinions you’ve brought to light." It was her turn to chuckle. They had discussed before how as an elf, and a woman, the closeness of their trust was something he could never have fathomed prior to their meeting in Redcliff.

"You will do so much good for Tevinter, Dori. The Emperium will never appreciate how lucky it is to have you." she smiled ruefully, allowing herself to look at him.

"Says the woman who was just asked very kindly to fuck off by two nations who would no longer exist if it weren't for her." He smirked, one curled end of his moustache popping up in amusement and she laughed. Dorian had a gift for making her laugh even when she was at her lowest.

"If only we had drinks to toast to our pariahdom."

"My dear sweet girl, did you really think I could say goodbye to you _without_ alcohol?" He produced a pair of flasks from his inner pocket and opened one before handing it to her. "It's like you don't know me at all!" They raised the flasks and drank. Athim, who had been expecting wine or something similarly palatable immediately choked as fire poured down her throat. Laughing, Dorian patted her on the back.

"Did you get this from Bull?!" She managed to cough out the words, "It's awful!" She coughed and he laughed until she regained her bearings.

"I know it has a bit more oomph than our usual fare," Dorian had the decency to sound apologetic, "but we have far fewer hours than is customary and I intend to be good and drunk before setting out."

"You could have warned me," she gave him a sidelong look.

"Yes I suppose I could have, but that wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining." He smirked. As her only hand was busy holding the flask and she wasn't able to hit him, Athim settled for kicking Dorian in the shin. He winced.

"I deserved that," he admitted.

"You usually do." She smirked and he shrugged in acquiescence. 

He raised his flask again, sitting up straighter. He was still smiling, but Athim could see the rough edges of the expression, there was a tightness around his eyes and he was blinking too much. "Here's to parting in the same manner we lived." 

She took a deep breath that shook with emotion and raised hers to match. "Drunk and bitching about a world that doesn't deserve us." they gently touched the flasks together, sharing smiles which were strained over their anguish, and drank.

Despite the potency of the spirits Dorian had produced he and Athim found themselves in the Herald's Rest before afternoon had even set in. Cabot, who had grown accustomed to their pattern, had brought them a bottle of wine and two glasses when they entered then retreated behind the bar.

"And I said ‘Vivienne, my dear, you know I agree with you on absolutely nothing but that gown is to _die_ for. It is literally murdering my eyes as we speak.’" They both burst into hysterical laughter. Dorian refilled Athim's glass and topped off his own with the last of the bottle. "I swear that woman's tailor is the most accomplished practical joker in the whole of Thedas." Dorian wiped away tears of amusement with one sleeve and downed his cup. 

"Unfortunately, that's it for me." He set the glass down with a resolute firmness. 

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll have Cabot bring another bottle," she raised her hand to signal the barkeep but Dorian caught it with his own and brought it back down to the table. She looked at him incredulously, but seeing his sorrowful expression her face fell to mirror it. "Oh Dori, no. It's still early."

"And Tevinter is a long way away." He replied shortly. Seeing the beginning of tears in her eyes, he was unable to muster any witty quips. He picked up her wine glass and downed that as well. 

"Sorry." He appeared as if he genuinely meant it. "You know how I am around crying women."

"Just stay for one more bottle, one more round," she squeezed his hand, trying to muster a smile. He shook his head, and stood up, pulling her with him.

"Come with me." She allowed him to lead her out of the tavern. He tucked her arm into the crook of his own and walked her through the courtyard. She felt a wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. He was her dearest friend, her closest confidant, the person she trusted more than anyone, and he was leaving. 

_Harden your heart to a cutting edge._

She quickly moved her focus away from him, willing her tears not to fall.

She reminded herself how important what he was going home to achieve was, how much it mattered to him, the good that he could and would accomplish. Thinking of how he would look, addressing the magisterium, dressed finer than any king or queen, she wanted to feel happy for him; she _was_ happy for him, but in that moment all she felt was disconsolate. She tightened her arm around his. He glanced down at her and saw the conflicted emotions playing across her face.

"We'll still be able to talk," he said suddenly. "Sending Crystal, remember?" With his free hand he pulled the pendant from beneath his shirt. Athim could feel the counterpart to it against her chest, its presence offering little comfort. "I probably won't be able to use it on the road, but the moment I'm back in society we'll speak. I'll bother you so much you'll end up sick of my voice." He had been hoping for a smile, instead he found teardrops sliding down her reddened cheeks.

"My life will feel empty without you by my side." Her voice was incongruously calm. She felt hollow though they had yet to say their goodbyes. Dorian released her arm to put his own around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her arm wrapped around his back automatically, pressing gently on his side.

"I feel the same, my friend. I will never, not if I live a hundred years, have a companion as precious to me." He put his forehead against hers. "I love you, Athy."

"I love you too, Dori."

She left Dorian at the stables where his traveling party waited. Leliana had volunteered some of her scouts to accompany the mage to Fereldan's northern coast where he would board a ship bound for the Imperium. He swore to contact her the moment he arrived in Minrathous. 

She walked along the ramparts back to her quarters, taking the path which passed through the gardens in order to avoid anyone who might be milling about the courtyard. Pausing near the vacant mage tower, she felt the air change, pressure dropping, and the acrid, sharp taste of electricity in the atmosphere, like that preceding a thunderstorm; pure magic crackling out from a centralized point. It felt similar to a Fade rift but lacking any of the violence inherent to such unnatural phenomena. The rush of power blew through her, filling Athim with a sense of peace, and she breathed it in, savoring the feeling.

"Hello Cole," the spirit stepped up beside her. Together they took in the view of the snowy mountains surrounding the keep.

"Hello,"

"I thought— we all thought you'd gone home after what happened at the Winter Palace." It had been reported to Athim that after she had emerged from the Eluvian and fallen unconscious, Cole had sat with her the entire time she slept, never leaving her side and keeping others away until she awoke. After that, he had disappeared.

Cole didn't respond; he gazed out over the panorama of mountains, snow capped peaks shimmering in the dimming light of the afternoon sun. Athim could see Dorian’s traveling party moving through the snow in the distance. The sight sent a dart of pain through her, like a paper cut: sharp and stinging regret which faded quickly.

"Alone, familiar word. Wearing it like clothes. Dorian in golden robes. Cassandra in golden robes. Solas in golden robes. Everything is dimmer without them.” Athim nodded, using the back of one trembling hand to wipe the moisture from her cheeks. She didn't have to pretend with Cole. That was a comfort. She held up a mask all day, but with him she could let it all slip away. The exhaustion of being who the people around her needed her to be, even when she didn’t feel like that person, eased with him. To Cole she wasn’t the strong and sure Inquisitor, the proud and dignified Dalish elf, or the measured and controlled mage. She was just Athim and she didn’t have to pretend to be all those things she wasn’t. He went on. "I went away but I didn't. There are so many little hurts to help. The Inquisition's end touched so many people." Athim couldn't decide if the thought made her happy or sad. "Happy." Cole responded to her inner dialogue, answering the question for her. "You gave them their hope back, they just forgot they could keep it without you. I helped them remember."

"I’m glad." And she was; the idea that so many people had their hopes riding on her was terrifying. She opened her mouth to speak again but hesitated, eyes flicking away from him.

"You can ask," she looked back at him, and smiled, miserably.

"Do you know where he went? How he is?" The spirit shook his head, looking away from her pleading eyes.

"He went away and I can't find him," he sounded forlorn. "Your pain touches his. I can hear its echo through you, but he's put it away just like you put it away. It's harder to hear locked up. You both make very strong locks." He reached out and touched her arm above the missing part. The skin of his hand was incredibly soft. "Taking it hurt him, but it taking you would have hurt more." His eyes met hers. "He loves you." His words made her chest suddenly tighten and her lungs deflate. Her shoulders pulled forward as she doubled over slightly, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, a rasping breath breaking into a devastated sob. She pulled her hand from her mouth to gasp as her stinging lungs demanded air and her fingers dug into the front of her shirt, as if she could claw out the heartache. She knew. There had been times when she endeavored to convince herself it was a lie in an attempt to silence the hollow echo he had left inside her heart. Instead she, as Cole put it, ‘put it away’ so she could function. Cole’s statement threatened to let everything come tumbling out. 

She reached out for the parapet, arm trembling, to steady herself and found a firm hand in her own instead. Opening her eyes, she saw through her tears that Cole had moved in order to take hers. She felt the calm which naturally emanated from him wash over her, loosening the vice around her chest. Athim took a shaking breath and blinked to clear her eyes, another breath to steady her heart, and a third to push it all away again. She squeezed Cole’s hand back.

“I know he does.” She didn’t bother faking a smile for him. “Thank you, Cole.” She let go of his hand and wiped the moisture from her cheeks with her rough linen sleeve, the fabric grating against her skin making her feel real again; more than just the vast emptiness the repeated departures had molded. He gave her a single nod of acknowledgement.

“I came to say goodbye,” Cole looked over the mountains again, his focus far away, past what could be seen. “I’m going back.”

“Will I remember you?” She said after a pause. Athim wasn’t surprised by his statement, she always knew that he would eventually return to the Fade. As special as Cole was, he was still a spirit. He couldn’t stay apart from it forever.

“Yes,” he looked back at her and smiled, causing a dimple on his cheek. The expression was melancholic but, beneath that, was touched with something like hope. “Goodbye. You’ll see me again, I’ll be here when the locks break,” And with that vague final promise, he was gone. Alone on the ramparts, Athim looked out over the mountains one last time, then forlornly headed down through the garden.

“Still nothing.” Leliana called out before Athim had even reached the top of the stairs. She paused in her ascent to the rookery, suddenly unsure if she should continue. Every day for two weeks she had visited Leliana for updates on the search for Solas and every day the Spymaster had reported no new information. He was like a ghost: rumors turned into dead ends, possible sightings became wild goose chases. 

Glancing back down the stairs toward the library, she considered other options. She had already pulled any book that mentioned Arlathan or ancient elves into her chambers and had been pouring over them night and day. Josephine was working on getting her more, reaching out to contacts in Tevinter, but had so far been unsuccessful. Her brow furrowed in frustration. Apart from marching out the front gates and searching the whole of Thedas on foot she had few ideas on how she alone could look for him.

"Athim?" Leliana had appeared at the top of the stairs, her voice caught the elf off guard and she jumped. Looking sheepish, Athim rubbed her left shoulder in what was becoming a new nervous habit as she could no longer pull on her fingertips. Leliana crossed her arms and suppressed an amused smile. “May I ask if you intend to remain in the stairway all day?”

“Um, no. I suppose that would be foolish…” she looked down the stairs again, but decided to continue up, and climbed the last handful of steps to join Leliana. 

The woman gave her a warm smile. “Why don’t you sit? I just prepared some tea.”

“Oh, no thank you on the tea, I’m fine,” she grimaced. She detested tea.

“Well sit anyway, I’d like to talk,” Leliana’s tone was jovial, but Athim could see a hardness in her eyes that unsettled her. She swallowed nervously and took the seat opposite the Spymaster's desk. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what she was so nervous about.  _ It's not as if you're keeping secrets _ . She swallowed again and attempted to shake the voice from her head with a smile aimed at the other woman.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"You, Athim. As your friend I find myself concerned with your mental well-being." She settled at the desk, cup of tea in her hands. Athim watched the delicate way she handled the tea spoon, stirring the steaming liquid without the metal ever touching the fragile porcelain, it was a good metaphor for the woman herself: moving gracefully and silently through a delicately constructed backdrop.

"What do you mean? I'm doing fine. Home at last and duty done." Her answering smile was one which had been carefully crafted, practiced for hours in front of a mirror, to reach her eyes. She could tell, however, that Leliana did not believe it, her eyes scanning the constructed expression over the rim of her teacup with evident doubt.

"You've come here every morning, fervently asking about Solas, and only since returning from the Winter Palace. Something has changed. Even when he first vanished you were not so earnest. You seem suddenly obsessed, and I'd like to know why."

Careful to maintain eye contact and not bite her lip, Athim shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, Leliana. I realize now I must be. I just…" she shrugged, "don't have much to do anymore."

The Spymaster raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. Whether this was a sign that she believed the lie or doubted it, the elf wasn't sure. "I see." She set her teacup upon the desk and folded her hands beside it. Across from her Athim noted that the cup had made no sound against the table. It was a trick Josephine had endeavored to instruct her in, with no success. As with most courtly things, Leliana was an expert. "Would you like something to do? I'm sure we could find tasks which need doing."

Athim genuinely considered the prospect. Something to occupy her mind did sound appealing. After the defeat of Corypheus, having other tasks to focus on was the only reason she kept her sanity. "What sort of tasks did you have in mind?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/05/2020 - Updated to restore ~700 words missing from the chapter's end


	7. We Must Stand in the Face of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When trust disappears  
> Like smoke in the sky  
> What will become of this  
> Will we last through the night?  
> All hope is vanished  
> But all is not lost  
> Don't close your eyes  
> We will stand in the face of the dark  
> There's nowhere to hide  
> At the seams, the world is coming apart  
> Fear is a blinding light  
> But don't close your eyes  
> -Don’t Close Your Eyes by Sam Tinnesz

_ Baroness Athim of House Lavellan of Orlais, Bann of Fereldan, Comtess of the City-State of Kirkwall, Inquisitor of the Former Inquisition, and Blessed Herald of Andraste, _

_ It is with great reverence and esteemed veneration that we reach out to you, your excellence. While the Inquisition has been disbanded, there are multitudes in Orlais and in lands abroad who would continue to support your Worship and your enduring confrère in any endeavors for peace and stability you embark on throughout Thedas. Even during times of peace, Thedas will never cease to require the uniquely noble services that you and your consociates have demonstrated amenable to participate in. The de Fancier family is one that would extend such abettance. We hold sprawling lands throughout Orlais, coffirs full to bursting, and seasoned soldiers; any of these and copious more besides could be made obtainable to your cause at any time there is need. Merely say the word and we will provide whatever is required for your Holiness' continuing endeavors. _

_ We remember the Breach and we stand with the Herald of Andraste. _

_ -From the desk of Lord Mantillion Louis de Fancier _

Athim set the letter down and stretched. Why did Orlesians use so many words to say such simple things? Not to say she didn't appreciate the long winded sentiment. According to Josephine the de Fanciers were a well respected, pious family who - while not as flashy or politically inclined as their contemporaries - still held much sway on the opinion of Orlais nobility. Securing a public show of support, Josie said, would incite others within Orlais' upper echelon to follow suit, continuing to offer financial support to what remained of the Inquisition. Two months prior, Leliana had suggested Athim begin taking over Josephine’s diplomatic duties. It was now her responsibility to deal with the nobles and their verbose letters. 

Rubbing her eyes with her right hand, Athim looked down at her response, or rather the blank page that should hold her response, and sighed. Josephine and Leliana thought it was good work for her. The ambassador thought she was taking it on so well that she would be returning to Antiva within the week. Athim had doubts about her abilities, but the pursuit kept her mind busy while Leliana continued searching for threads of information about Solas, so she figured it was worth the headaches. She turned her gaze back to the letter to read it again.

“ _ Confrère _ ?” she rolled her eyes.

Reaching into the drawer to her right she retrieved a bottle of ink, shaking it gently before setting it beside her paper on the desk. She wrapped her fingers carefully around the bottle and stopper and attempted to remove it one handed as she had trained herself to do. It didn't come out. Athim frowned, feeling a tendril of frustration begin to creep up her spine. She took a breath and tried again with the same lack of result. The stopper was in too tight. Without thinking she reached forward with her left arm and growled when reality reasserted itself, the incomplete arm uselessly rising in an attempt to assist it's mate. Fueled with anger, she tried again with her right hand, fist clenching tighter than she intended. The vial of ink shattered, splattering the black liquid over her desk and hand. She screamed, a rough sound low in her throat, and shook her hand, ink and shards of glass pooling onto the blotter.

Athim closed her eyes tightly and took a shaky breath. She tried to forget about it, to not think about how she was… damaged, to work around it whenever possible. Life often reminded her how enfeebled she was, how the loss of her arm would continue to make her reliant on others, no matter how she resisted. Her anger broiled low in her gut, slow to cool.

"Calm down," she whispered, the words coming out in a hiss. She took another deep breath. Calming herself down was so much easier before, she used to dip into the Fade, it's touch always cooling her temper but, of course, she didn't do that anymore.

Athim heard the door to her chamber clatter open and furious footsteps ascended the stairs. She inhaled sharply and sat up straighter. Over the past few years everyone in Skyhold seemed to have forgotten how to knock. The presence of another person cooled her temper immediately. She looked at her hand, checking for nicks and waited for the footsteps to reach the landing. It was one of Leliana’s scouts. With so many leaving Skyhold in the two months since their return from the Exalted Council, the Nightingale's people had taken up many additional tasks around the fortress. 

The man was out of breath from racing up the stairs but quickly regained his composure when he saw Athim. He gave a short bow and crossed the room to stand before her desk. As the leader of the Inquisition, Athim had done her best to learn the names and faces of as many of their people as she could; after the dissolution of the organization she endeavored to know those who remained.

“Joiner,” She was pleased that she remembered his name. Leliana had provided Dagna with some of her people in the last month to assist with resource gathering and Athim recognized Joiner as one of them. He saluted, eyes slightly wide as they flicked over the ink which splattered her. She ignored his surprise at her appearance. “Has Dagna finally blown up the Undercroft?” 

"Inquis-” He stopped himself as she raised an eyebrow. Athim had insisted on dropping the title since disbanding the organization, but it had been a slow adjustment for many. “Mistress Lavellan,” he corrected, continuing in a curious monotone, as if he were reading the words from a cue card. “Your presence has been requested in the Undercroft.”

“Ah, so it does still exist. That’s good.” she wiped her black stained hand on her breeches, secretly glad for the distraction. “Any idea what my presence is requested for?”

The scout gave a loose shrug. “Unsure, Your Holiness.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he said this. Athim made a mental note to speak to Leliana about his inability to tell a convincing lie. She stood and retrieved the coat she had draped across the back of her chair; it was always chilly in the caverns below the keep. Joiner moved to help her with the jacket but she gestured for him to stop. With a practiced hand she slipped the specially tailored left arm of the coat over her upper arm then slid her right hand into the opposite sleeve to let the coat fall comfortably on her shoulders. Joiner stepped back, seemingly embarrassed by his attempt to assist her. She gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be down shortly.” The scout relaxed and gave her another salute before turning on his heel and heading out again. Athim noted that while he walked to the stairs calmly, once heading down she heard his steps speed up to the breakneck pace with which he had entered.

Puzzled, Athim watched him go. She took a moment to make sure all her work was properly stored away, then headed for the stairs. As she walked she turned her thoughts to what might be waiting for her in the Undercroft. What would have even Leliana's scouts so giddy they'd be running up and down her steps? She tried to think of anything specific she knew Dagna was working on but nothing came to mind. To be fair she hadn't even visited the Undercroft in weeks. Helping the former Inquisition's ambassador wrap up loose ends so she could return home to Antiva and preparing to take up such duties on full time once that happened had kept her away. Josie, as would be expected, was highly anxious about the hand off and Athim couldn't blame her. While she had been assisting with diplomatic enterprises since sealing the Breach two years prior, handling such things on her own was a very different matter. She was too brash, lacking the reserved dignity the Antivan woman embodied.

She was so absorbed in these thoughts that she didn't notice Varric approaching her as she crossed the main hall until he cleared his throat from beside her. Exemplifying her lack of dignity, Athim jumped like a startled cat, which of course prompted a chuckle from the dwarf.

"It's reassuring that even after the madness of the last five years you can still be startled," he mused. Athim glowered and gave the dwarf a half-hearted punch to the shoulder.

"Ass," a smile turned up one corner of her mouth. "Where do you think you're going? Shouldn't you be preparing for the journey back to Kirkwall, Viscount Tethras? Were you finally able to shake Bran from your heels?" Bran's anxiety about Varric's absence had been rising since the Council. After a month he'd started hounding anyone he thought could convince the wayward Viscount to return to his duties. As time went on, that pool of individuals had dwindled and Bran's harassment had become a daily affront. Varric had only recently given into the demands after Josephine and Leliana sat him down and explained how they would flay him alive if the Seneschal spoke to them again. 

He shrugged, a smile teasing his lips. "I'm sure Bran can handle the packing, and brooding, and ignoring letters from Starkhaven on his own for a little while. I hear Ruffles has had you hard at work."

"Yeah, she wants to get back to her family," her voice was wistful. She didn't blame Josephine, five years was a long time to be away from home. You could see how much she missed it by the way her eyes sparkled talking about the ports in Antiva, the way her cheeks dimpled when she talked about her younger siblings. "And of course I needed to find a way to make myself useful again. It coincides quite nicely." Her tone was light but inside the truth stung like a switch. There were no outposts to maintain, no Rifts left to close, even if she hadn't lost the ability to do so, and without her left hand she could barely fight. At least handling diplomatic correspondence made her feel like less of a burden.

"Shit, I should have had you handle my mail." He crossed his arms, genial expression intact, and Athim was relieved that he had missed her momentary lapse into self pity.

"I could  _ absolutely _ have handled ignoring letters from Starkhaven on your behalf." She grinned.

"I'll look at getting them forwarded to you." He chuckled and gestured with his elbow to the door. "Headed down below?"

"I was summoned." She could see interest in the way he was leaning slightly toward the door. The way he asked, like he already knew the answer, made her reply warily.

"Mind if I tag along? I'm curious to see what has the Nightingale's scouts scurrying through the halls like excited school girls." He smirked knowingly, more so than usual, and there was the unmistakable shine of mischief in his eyes. Athim, suspicions confirmed, narrowed her eyes.

"Varric, what's going on?"

"Going on? What could you possibly mean?"

"You clearly know something about what's down there."

Varric did his best to look wounded. "Me? Know something you don't? Don't be absurd, Comtesse." But he couldn't help smirking.

"Don’t call me that,” she glared at him; it was not the first time she had made the request.

“But it’s your title,  _ Comtesse _ .” He drew out the hiss of the S in a way that grated on her patience.

She sighed heavily. “Is this like that time you 'didn't know' about the Charger's plan to kidnap me for my birthday?" She made exaggerated air quotes as she said this, the effect slightly ruined by the fact that she was only able to produce one set.

"Well to be fair to me I'd only discussed half the plan with Krem ahead of time. I had no way of knowing they'd go off script."

"Or perhaps it's like the time you 'had no idea' how the hard cider at our end-of-year diplomatic banquet ended up topped off with an entire bottle of Antivan Brandy?" She shot him another glare. "We were never able to get some of those stains out of the carpet, you know."

Varric put up his hands defensively. "Isabella didn't tell me it was the  _ really _ good stuff. I swear she normally brought me swill. I can't be expected to know when the woman is going to suddenly do something honorable." Athim put her hand on her hip and raised one eyebrow, more than done with Varric’s justifications. "Alright, alright. Point made." Varric conceded at last. "But, no, not like those times. And not like the half dozen other examples swirling around in your head." Athim dropped her arm and eyebrow, glancing uneasily at the door to the undercroft. She didn’t like being out of the loop, it dredged up memories of walking blind into too many dangers. Her left arm itched at the thought and she did her best to ignore it. 

"What's with the face?" Varric put his hands on his hips, voice reassuring. "What could possibly be down there that could worry the Blessed Herald of Andraste?" 

She looked back at him and gave an exaggerated shrug. "I have no idea honestly. That's what's troubling."

"Well, should we head down and find out what it is or just spend all afternoon making small talk in this excellently decorated hall?" He gestured around at the Orlesian statues and golden lions, each one catching and bouncing the light up to the lofty rafters. Between them and the exquisite tapestries which covered the room it was very well decorated. Vivienne had been good for some things. 

Athim sighed. "I don't know what's going on, but I know I don't like being kept in the dark. Makes me anxious." She narrowed her eyes at Varric again. "There better end up being a damn good reason for all the secrecy or I'm tracking down everyone involved and giving them a swift punch in the face."

Varric laughed, "You'd be able to, too." His eyes sparkled with a joke she couldn't comprehend.

"Let's go then," she sighed in defeat. "I'm too tired for your word games." She pulled the door open and started down the stone steps, Varric on her heels. "You know I prefer cards."

  
  


After tripping one too many times, Athim had gotten into the habit of pausing at the foot of the stairs for a moment to let her eyes focus to the Undercroft’s natural dimness before continuing into the space properly. In this moment, as her eyes took in silhouettes and gave them names, she could tell something was going on. 

The normally comfortably-sparse space was bustling. Several of Leliana's scouts, including Joiner, stood back from the main area of activity, observing. A large work table was set up near the balcony’s edge and a collection of people, slowly coming into focus, crowded around it. Athim recognized them as her vision sharpened:

Harritt and Dagna, no surprise there. Dorian was there, she realized with a start. She gasped aloud when she recognized him, the sound absorbed by the general din of the chamber's numerous occupants. Her heart was in her throat and she felt a smile lift her lips as tears pricked her eyes. She likely would have begun crying if not for the fourth figure in the room, whose identity left Athim at a loss, pulling her attention away from the Tevinter mage. Another dwarf based on the size, and female based on the proportions, but she wore a hood and generic leather armor and Athim couldn't identify the figure from behind. The presence of an apparent stranger in the keep made her nervous, and she reached up to rub her left shoulder. 

Beside her she heard Varric chuckle as he watched her expression shift. She looked to him with a raised eyebrow but he ignored this visual question and marched past her down into the main work floor of the space.

"Alright, it's looking  _ real _ crowded in here, can we clear some space?" Everyone looked up from the work table as he spoke. When they did their eyes all shifted to Athim. The sudden attention made her uncomfortable and she averted her gaze to the floor. Varric gestured at the scouts, who sheepishly made their way past her and out of the Undercroft without a word. Harritt stretched and, after a quiet word with Dagna, headed for the door. He gave Athim a half hearted salute as he passed her, which she responded to with a baffled wave.

"Finally!" Dorian's voice echoed as he bounded up the room to Athim. "I thought you'd never arrive. Truly every moment in this dismal castle without your presence is agony. You know how I dislike deception but it was deemed necessary, and who am I to argue with a united front?" He took her right hand in his own without waiting for a response and, with his left hand on her shoulder to steer, started leading her down towards the others.

"Dorian! I thought-"

"That I was well on my way to Tevinter, yes of course, I know. That was the idea after all. I think I did an excellent job of keeping out of sight, but you did such an excellent job of staying busy that I needn't have bothered." He winked at her and she gently slapped his arm.

"What's all this about then? Why are you still here? Who is—" Athim faltered as they rounded the table and she recognized the unknown dwarf.

"Inquisitor," Bianca nodded.

"Actually," Varric who was now beside Bianca jumped in "It's not Inquisitor anymore. No Inquisition means no—"

"Bianca, what are you doing here?" Athim was so shocked by the tinkerer's presence that she didn't even notice Varric speaking. "I thought you couldn't— what about the merchant's guild?" She looked to Varric then back to Bianca and her tone dropped, suspicion heavy in her voice. "What's going on?" The last time Bianca had shown up at Skyhold it was to stop a red lyrium smuggling operation that had endangered the world.

"It's nothing like that, Lavellan!" Varric laughed, throwing his hands up. "The world isn't ending again," he momentarily glanced thankfully at Bianca. "I called in a favor is all."

Athim, more confused than ever, closed her eyes and shook her head slightly to clear it, voice frustrated. "What could possibly be worth risking both of your lives?"

"Well… you obviously, Athim." Dorian squeezed her hand which he still held. She looked at him with wide eyes and he gave her arm an assuring squeeze. She glanced around at the three dwarves who all watched her with hopeful apprehension, nodding to confirm Dorian’s words .

"Me?" She didn’t understand. "What about me?"

"We made you something!" Dagna, who had been uncharacteristically silent up to that point, spoke up. "All of us together! You're going to love it! Oh, I'm so excited."

For the first time Athim noticed the top of the work table, which showed evidence of a project. Gears and wires and scraps of metal and tools she couldn't begin to guess the name of, and what appeared to be empty lyrim vials. In the middle of this chaos was a cloth draped over something Athim assumed would be the culmination of the surrounding mess. 

Upon approaching the table she felt a subtle change in the air, something she hadn’t been able to sense from the doorway. She closed her eyes for a moment and used that invisible part of herself which touched the Fade, the wellspring of her magic, to brush over the charge. It was definitely magic, but dormant. It felt similar to raw lyrium but with a readiness she could only identify in images: a bow string at full draw, a heavy blade at the apex of its swing, a leaping step just before feet left the ground. She opened her eyes, puzzled.

Varric looked sheepish. "I knew Bianca was the only one who could do it justice, so I called in the favor." He repeated.

"All of them, actually," Bianca corrected him.

He nodded. "Yeah, all of them," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "It’ll be worth it." Athim wasn't sure if he was reassuring her, Bianca, or himself. She looked at the shape under the cloth again. Whatever it was could be no more than two feet in length and based on the fall of the cloth, appeared to be cylindrical. She studied her friends and wracked her brain for anything they could have made her that would be so important that it warranted the expectant looks on their faces.

"What is it?" She said at last, slowly.

"We'll just show you," said Bianca, the look on her face a mix of excited pride. She took hold of the cloth and in one smooth motion pulled it away to reveal what lay beneath.

Athim stared at the gift, mouth agape. She couldn't identify what she was looking at. Her mind knew the shape but couldn't seem to give it a name. There was a moment of silence as the group waited for her response, then Dagna's excitement bubbled over. 

"Bianca built it. She's so talented, right?"

"I knew she could, and I was right, as usual." Varric gave Bianca a little bump with his elbow prompting her to roll her eyes. 

Dagna nodded furiously. "Absolutely! She got all the little details right, made sure it can move just like it's supposed to," her exuberance seemed infectious as Bianca took up her train of thought.

"Dagna found a way to infuse the metal with pure lyrium, prime it as it were, train it to move with just a spark-" 

"Yes, a spark! A spark of magic! Dorian helped test it, he made sure that all our effort was working just so."

Dorian scoffed. "It took more than a spark, I'll have you know," he glanced down at her and, seeing her still slack jawed, squeezed her hand. "Athim." He whispered, sliding his hand from her shoulder to her back. "If you don't stop them they'll go on all night. I know from experience." She opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on the others, attention hyper focused on what they had made her. Her eyes flooded with tears as the cognitive dissonance in her mind finally cleared and she realized what it was.

"We had to make so many adjustments, I thought it would never be perfect-" Bianca continued. As Dorian had said she, Varric, and Dagna were entirely absorbed in their excitement over the invention.

"Oh please, as if you'd ever stop before you reached perfection," Varric chuckled.

"But it is now! And—"

Dorian cleared his throat, cutting Dagna off. “Athim, darling, do you like it?” She didn’t answer, she didn’t seem to be able to, her mouth moving with the beginnings of words which never made it to being voiced. A tear rolled down her cheek and she took a deep breath, ragged with emotion, taking her arm away from Dorian to wipe it away with her fingertips.

"All of you made this? For  _ me _ ?" With humble smiles, each of them nodded. The months of work, the risk Bianca and Varric had taken, Dorian remaining in Orlais, to think that all of that was for her. She couldn’t fathom it.

Dorian’s hand was still on her back and he patted her gently. “Don’t act so surprised. You have a nasty habit of being the last to know how important you are.” He flashed her his winning grin and she found herself beaming back.

"I was more a facilitator, but I think that counts." Varric winked and she laughed, wiping her eyes again. 

“So you do like it?” Dagna’s voice was two octaves higher than normal.

Athim nodded. “I do,” the collective sigh of relief was nearly deafening in the stone chamber. “How could I not?” She looked back to the table. “It's one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” 

Slowly she reached out, like one would with an animal whose tameness was in question, and gently laid her fingertips on the metal arm on the table. It was warm to the touch, more so than summer stone often was naturally. Dorian must have told them it was her favorite. The magic radiating from it felt familiar and comforting. A shiver slid down her spine as she trailed her fingers down the metal until she brushed gently over the wrist, knuckles, and delicate fingers, joints so perfectly crafted they were almost imperceptible. 

She looked up at the others again, honor and awe glowing in her expression; her face devoid of the pleasant mask she always wore. There were tears shining in her eyes again as she found herself overwhelmed with the magnitude of what they had given back to her. It was not just an arm, it was her independence, her strength, and her confidence, it was everything that she had lost when the limb had been taken.

"Thank you." She said, letting her eyes meet each of theirs in turn. " _ Ma bal'venhan serannas. _ "


	8. I'm Ready to Suffer and I'm Ready to Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I've been a fool and I've been blind  
> I can never leave the past behind  
> I can see no way, I can see no way  
> I'm always dragging that horse around  
> All of his questions, such a mournful sound  
> Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground  
> Cause I like to keep my issues drawn  
> But it's always darkest before the dawn  
> Shake it out, shake it out  
> Shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa  
> Shake it out, shake it out  
> Shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa  
> And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back  
> So shake him off, oh whoa  
> -Shake it Out by Florence and the Machine

"Should I excuse myself?" Varric threw a thumb towards the door. The other four looked at him, confused. Then Athim, shirt half unbuttoned, laughed. Looking back at her Dorian and the ladies realized why he had asked.

"You're fine, Varric," she finished unbuttoning her shirt, fingers on her right hand practiced at the task after doing it alone for several months. "It's not as if I'm getting naked. Besides, I'd like you to be here. You were the one who started this after all." Varric shrugged in aquiessence and crossed his arms over his chest. Dorian, who was holding Athim's coat, reached out a hand to help her with her shirt but she shot him a defensive glare and he faltered.

"I'm okay, Dorian," the words came out harsher than she meant and she bit her lip. "I'm okay," she repeated, softer this time, then she carefully rotated her left shoulder back and tugged at the back of the shirt with her right hand,pulling the sleeve off her left arm. "It's important to me to do it myself." He sighed and stepped back. She finished removing the shirt then tossed it onto the work table beside the metal arm.

Bianca was the only one present who had yet to see her arm since she had lost it, and Athim noticed she was staring at where her left arm abruptly ended. "Bianca." 

The dwarf started and uncomfortably looked away. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," At first there had been a lot of staring, but the amount of people she let see it was small and they had gotten used to it. It hadn't occurred to Athim that Bianca hadn't when she'd begun undressing. "I should have given you a warning."

"Oh no," Bianca shook her head, "it's not that. I've seen amputations before. Smith Caste, remember? Accidents happen...” She seemed hesitant to continue her thought but Athim gestured that she should. “It’s just so…. Smooth. I’ve never seen an amputation leave no scar. Your surgeon must be incredible.” 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room at this statement. Bianca immediately realized she’d said something she shouldn’t have and opened her mouth to apologize, but Athim put her hand up to stop her. Dorian and Varric were studying their shoes with an exuberance rarely witnessed and Dagna appeared to be holding her breath.

“It wasn’t a traditional amputation,” Athim's voice was calm and detached, all emotion regarding the event locked tightly away inside herself. “It was performed using magic, no need for a surgeon.” She gave a clearly exaggerated smile and wished with all her might that she could slap both Dorian and Varric. At times like this, their tendency to walk on eggshells around what happened to her did more harm than good.

“That makes sense,” Bianca considered aloud. “Dwarves don’t have magical-based healers on hand since that would involve bringing in an outsider, that would explain why I’ve never seen such a clean removal.” The tension in the room dissipated as she spoke. Athim threw dark looks at both of the men, which they returned with apologetic smiles.

“Oh Ancestors,” Dagna exploded, unable to hold back her excitement any longer. “Are you going to try it or not? I’m so excited I can barely breathe!” Everyone laughed at her outburst.

“Yes of course, sorry!” Athim responded hastily and went to the table, studying the prosthetic. “Will I be able to put it on alone?” She looked up at Dagna and Bianca. They both nodded.   
“Absolutely!” Dagna replied, tone bubbly.

Bianca, gestured toward Varric with her head. “Varric made it clear that you needed to be able to,” the elf looked at Varric and mouthed ‘thank you’ to him. He shrugged as if to say it was nothing. “Once you slide the cuff onto the arm, one strap should sit on your left shoulder. That should give you the stability you need to tighten the cuff and buckle the second strap across your chest.” 

Picking up the arm in her right hand, Athim noted how light it was. “It’s so delicate. I expected it to be heavier.” She slid the empty cuff over the end of her arm, making sure the angle of the limb was correct. Once she was happy with the positioning she slid her hand up the straps, maintaining tension on them to keep the whole thing from tumbling off until she was able to slip the loop strap over her shoulder. “This strap feels a little loose,” It was holding the arm on her as intended, but had a little too much slack.

“Well it’s not solid metal, there's a lot going on inside of it,” Bianca chuckled. “The inside is mostly wires and springs and ball joints-”

“And Lyrium!” Dagna interjected. “It doesn’t weigh much once infused.”

“And lyrium,” Bianca repeated with a smile and approached to look at the strap Athim had indicated. “Let's get the cuff placed properly so I know how much it needs to be shortened. Dorian, can you hold the arm in place while she tightens the cuff?” She raised an eyebrow at the way Athim stiffened. “Just this time. Once the straps are the right length you won’t need any help getting it on or off.” Dorian chuckled as he tossed her jacket onto the work table next to her shirt then came up around her to gently hold the arm.

“It must be so difficult to accept help after single handedly saving the world so many times,” he mused to her, smirking.

“Technically she had  _ both  _ hands all the times she saved the world.” Varric interjected from the other side of the table.

“Ass!” Athim cried in outrage, grabbing a wrench from the table to throw at him, but she was unable to keep the smile from her face. Varric dodged the wrench and threw up his hands in defeat.

“Really, how could I resist? I've been waiting months to make that joke!" The three of them descended into laughter, Dagna joining in after a moment. Bianca crossed her arms and waited for the group to compose itself.

"If you're all quite finished I think we were in the middle of something?" Bianca gestured at Athim and Dorian who laughed again then turned their attention back to the prosthetic. Athim pushed her arm snuggly into the cuff and tightened it around her arm until it felt secure. Reaching behind her back she found one side of the second strap which she tucked under her arm in order to grab the other end. This one was a buckle which, luckily, she had gotten very good at handling one handed. In a moment she had it tightened across her chest. 

She nodded at Dorian and he gently released the arm. It swung loose at the elbow joint, carried down by gravity and Athim felt the tug of its weight on her shoulder. It was a strange nostalgic feeling that felt familiar enough to confound her brain for a moment when she couldn't lift it. She looked back at Bianca.

"It looks good!" She said with a smile. "Crouch down so I can cinch that strap for you." Athim went down on one knee while the smith grabbed her tools.

"How does it feel?" Dorian asked, crossing his arms, expression concerned.

"Good." She glanced down at the arm hanging at her side. "Strange." Varric had recovered from his near wrench-induced head injury and joined them. He looked back and forth between Bianca and Athim..

"Strange how?" He asked, also crossing his arms.

"Like…" Athim reached for the words, "Like the weight is familiar, familiar enough that my mind is confused that I can't move it like I would a part of me. Like when your leg goes to sleep and you can't make it do anything you want, but with less tingles." That made both of the men laugh.

"Oh, don't worry Inquisitor! You'll be able to move it soon enough," Dagna had struggled with Athim's title change more than most, particularly when she was excited.

"If everything goes the way we hope it will," Dorian corrected, absently twirling his moustache with two fingers. "And if it doesn't, well then a few more weeks of tinkering and testing. At least you know now so I don't have to continue skulking around like a shadow," he grinned. "I'm  _ delighted _ to have a chance to hear about the diplomatic endeavors Josephine has you working on." Athim groaned.

"All done," Bianca stepped back and gestured for Athim to get up. "Move it around a bit, make sure the fit is better." She did, rotating her shoulder around.

"Feels good," she gave Bianca a sharp nod. "Secure."

"My turn!" Dagna rushed into the middle of the group. "Well, our turn," she gestured at Dorian. "Theoretical knowledge only gets you so far once you're at the testing phase."

"So, what do I do?" Athim looked down at the limp arm again.

"Um...well you put magic in it!" 

Dorian barked out a laugh. "Theoretical knowledge." He laughed again but stopped suddenly when both Athim and Dagna narrowed their eyes at him. "Sorry." He cleared his throat. "You need to focus magic into it, the way you do a sustained spell, but instead of visualizing wreathing yourself in fire or your skin hardening like stone, focus on the metal as an extension of yourself. See it moving the way you want it to move, feel the way muscles pull in your arm, visualize the magic continuing into it the way it… the way it did before." He stumbled over his words and Athim turned towards him, bewildered. The slip was unlike Dorian. 

Studying him, she realized he was choking up: he was deliberately not looking at her, focusing on the arm itself, and she saw the tightness around his eyes and mouth, the extra sheen across his face. With a sharp pang of guilt, Athim had the sudden thought that this experience, from losing her arm to this moment, had not been an emotional one for her alone. She considered, for the first time, how she would have felt if things were reversed, if he had been the one to almost die, to lose his arm, to lose so much. How difficult would it have been to watch her friend suffering in that way?

"You'll probably have to pour in more than you think you need the first few times," he continued, having regained his composure. "It will take some practice before you can actually do anything with it, especially anything that requires your attention be divided. Don't get disheartened by that, I very nearly did. But just like with a cloak spell you should get to the point where you don't have to think about it." He finally moved his attention from the arm back to her face. "That's the idea anyway."

"Theoretically," Varric piped in.

"Yes, theoretically." Dorian rolled his eyes. "In testing I was able to make it move the way I wished, confirming that Dagna's enchantments were working but it wasn't attached to  _ my _ body. That could change the way it feels or the ease of movement. We also don't cast in the most similar ways so there may be necessary adjustments based on that as well."

Dagna nodded. "A mage with a closer casting style would have been better, of course, but Varric decided it needed to be Dorian."

"Well I wasn't going to let  _ Madame de Fer _ anywhere near this." Varric tossed on a terrible, over the top Orlesian accent for Vivienne's nickname. Athim laughed.

"Thank you for that, I would have been forced to refuse on principle!" That roused a laugh from everyone. The voice in the back of Athim's head spoke up, killing the laughter on her tongue:  _ what was it Cole said? Solas's magic is like yours, but quieter. _ She quickly shook the thought off, replacing it with a forced smile. 

"So what do you say, Miss Former Inquisitor? Ready to give it a whirl?" Bianca had come to stand next to Varric which meant everyone was in a semicircle in front of Athim, all eager to see if their hard work had paid off.

"Ah, might as well," she said, looking down at the arm again. "Otherwise it seems silly not to be somewhere with drinks right now." She gave Dorian a wink which he returned.

Athim took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Focusing on her breathing, she felt for the intangible connection she had with the Fade and reached for the magic, immediately feeling it flowing to her. It had been months since she’d drawn from the Fade, the last time being the fighting surrounding the Exalted Council, and had done so little in the year preceding it. Based on this she expected some resistance, but the power rushed to meet her call. The Fade was an old friend and she let it pool in her chest, warm and wild, like a sleeping cat, before beginning to direct it. She focused on her right arm first, feeling the way the power flowed down the limb, feeling her muscles and tendons and bones, and attempted to memorize the way it felt all the way down to the tingle in her fingertips. 

With a deep inhale she pulled the power back from her right arm and, exhaling slowly, channeled it into her left arm instead. She imagined her arm as it was now, whole but different. The magic flowed down her upper arm and stopped. She knitted her brows and tried again, pushing harder, but the power would not flow past the end of her arm. Taking another deep breath to calm the frustration she felt, Athim put her attention on the point where the magic had stopped, the connection between flesh and steel, real and unreal, past and future. The magic wanted to keep going, to flow into the metal as an extension of herself; she could feel the anticipation in it but it seemed… stuck. She opened her eyes and frowned at the appendage, confounded.

“What’s the matter?” Dorian’s sharp eyes were anxiously studying her expression.

“I don’t know.” She tried again, lines appearing on her forehead as she pushed against the unknown barrier, with no success. “I’m visualizing, just like you said, but the magic won’t  _ go _ .”

He thoughtfully placed a hand to his chin, his other arm coming up to support his elbow. “What does it feel like?”

“It feels like it’s hitting a wall, Dorian,” the irritation she felt leaked into her voice making her words short and sharp. “It gets to the end of my arm and just stops.” He raised his eyebrows poignantly and she felt her furrow deepen in annoyance. She opened her mouth to issue a scathing retort, then stopped, jaw snapping shut and forehead smoothing out, as realization struck. "The end of  _ my _ arm."

"What's that mean?" Varric looked between them, clearly lost.

"She's still talking about the arm as something separate from her. Which means that's how she's thinking of it." Bianca said matter of factly. Athim and Dorian both nodded.

"Well, then what do we do?" Varric shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Nothing  _ we _ can do,” he turned back to Athim expectantly.

Swallowing hard, her thoughts raced. It wouldn't work because of her. The walls she had built around her mind to keep out the nightmares that had plagued her after Solas left, the barriers of will erected between her and her own magic to make the memories of him indistinct and blunted, they were now stopping the magic she needed. She could still cast, still fight when she had to, but for this it wasn't enough; she had to break the locks she had placed in herself and be open to the Fade fully once again. A tremor started in her at the thought and she took a deep breath to suppress it. "I think I know what to do." Scratching her left shoulder she fought to keep her voice steady, feeling talons of fear clawing at her resolve. “I’ll probably be unresponsive for a few minutes as I, uh, knock the cobwebs out, as it were.”

Dorian cocked his head at her. “Anything I can do to help?” He was being so supportive, she wished she could accept.

“My brain, my magic,” she shrugged. “No room for white knights in there,” she joked, then squeezed his upper arm gently. “It will be alright.” 

With a final reassuring smile she dropped her arm and closed her eyes. Focusing on her breathing, she let everything around her - the Undercroft, her friends, even the sound of the wind - fade away. Alone with her heartbeat, Athim visualized the fortifications which she had spent years fashioning, reinforcing, and improving on. She imagined them crumbling, falling to pieces brick by brick, dissolving into ash... and nothing happened. _ You both make very strong locks,  _ Cole's voice echoed in her ears. So strong, it seemed, that she could not topple them on her own. 

She tried again, but instead of visualizing the obstacles coming down she imagined a single crack running through the barriers, a narrow fissure in the wall. And there it was, a whisper of the Fade, leaking through. Athim reached for it, calling out with every fiber of her essence: "Help me."

And the Fade rushed to her aid.

  
  


A few minutes, she had said. They watched her, eagerly waiting for her eyes to reopen. Her expression was impassive as stone, lacking even the twitch of eyelids which sleepers demonstrated. After five minutes Dorian and Varric shared an anxious glance and Dagna began fidgeting impatiently. By the time ten minutes had elapsed then men's anxiety had spread to the women. Dagna alternated between fussing with her hair and wringing her hands. Bianca was biting her lip, throwing increasingly concerned looks at Varric who was frowning and keeping a close eye on Dorian. The mage had begun inching closer to Athim, his expression darkening with every minute. It was so silent that the wind rushing over the mountains was the only sound to be heard. 

“Should it be taking this long?” Bianca broke the silence, her tone worried.

“No.” Dorian didn’t take his attention off of Athim. “It shouldn’t. Something isn’t right.”

The other three exchanged an apprehensive glance and Dagna spoke up, words aimed at Dorian. “Should we do something?”

Tears began slipping out from under Athim's closed eyelids, soon pouring down her cheeks to drip off her chin. All the while her expression remained blank. That seemed to be the tipping point for Dorian, who stepped forward, arm outstretched to grab hold of her. 

Suddenly there was a rush of something like wind. Cole appeared between the mages with one hand resting gently against Dorian’s chest.

“No,” he sounded and looked exactly the same as he had before vanishing back into the Fade months prior. “She needs to do this,” He looked up from beneath his wide brimmed hat to meet Dorian’s eyes, his own becoming clouded. “ _ Magic, white hot, filling me up, burning me up. Failure not an option, can’t back out, can’t think, can’t breathe _ .” Dorian uncomfortably looked away, recognition of his own thoughts from a lifetime ago in his eyes. “You survived. She will too.”

“She shouldn’t have to.” Dorian said flatly.

“No,” Cole agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at Athim, so still but for the tears rolling down her cheeks. “She shut the hurt away too tight. They were soft like scarves before, but now they’re knives, and she has to unpack them.”

"Kid, what are you doing here? I thought you went home." Varric, despite his worry, was obviously pleased to see Cole. 

Cole gave a very human shrug. "I go where the hurt is. Her pain is… familiar. It calls to me, stronger than most. I came to help."

"What's happening?" Dagna sounded frightened. 

Cole turned his gaze to her and his face softened. "It isn't your fault. Your work was perfect." The tight look on her face instantly relaxed, like a knot inside her had been loosened. Cole smiled awkwardly then looked to the whole group. "After what happened, it hurt too much. Touching the Fade made everything too real, so she turned away from it. She's been asleep without sleeping. Now she's turning back and it's waking everything up," He turned to look at Athim. "We have to let her wake up on her own or she'll never be whole."

Dorian was the only one who really understood the magnitude of what Cole was explaining. He was aghast. "But that's not possible. She couldn't cut herself off from the Fade. That would make her tranquil, she wasn't tranquil and she couldn't do that to herself anyway!"

"Not cut off," Cole shook his head and looked back at him. "Just turned away." His eyes unfocused, " _ Don't think about it, don't think about him. It's not real, push it away, stay busy, no time for memories, no time for hurt. Don't let them see, don't let them worry, my fault, my fight, deal with it later, not now, never now _ ." He refocused on Dorian and Varric. "You couldn't have known. She is very good at hiding."

"You know I hate it when you dip into my mind like that, Cole." Dorian grumbled.

"Don't think he needed to for that one," Bianca had been watching silently and had seen both of their faces as Cole spoke. "For someone with such a good poker face you're awfully easy to read, Varric."

Varric gave a defeated shrug. "So what do we do, Kid? Just leave her like this?"

"She's not crying anymore." Dagna had gone back to watching Athim while the others spoke. At these words everyone but Cole's attention snapped back to Athim. She was right, the tears had stopped.

"She's coming back," Cole's voice was so quiet that the others didn't hear. Then Athim took a deep breath.

  
  


She felt light; lighter than she had in recent memory. She settled herself back into her body: curling and uncurling the fingers on her right hand and flexing her back. The magic she had pulled into her chest was still there, and more, gathered to her in the rush of power and memories that accompanied the breaking down of her internal barricades. It was an intimidating amount of power, filling her from the tips of her toes to her scalp, but she didn't feel afraid; she felt comfortable and safe wrapped in the power. It was like the tingle of a thinned veil, but inside of her, a closeness to the Fade which felt like sitting before a roaring hearth in warm blankets during the dead of winter, the sweetness of drinking chocolate still on your lips. She couldn’t remember if it had felt the same before Solas left, before she decided not feeling was preferable to pain. Taking a deep breath, she once again let the magic flow down her left arm. This time it didn't stop, didn't hesitate, it flowed from the arm of flesh and bone to the arm of metal and magic as if there was no difference between them. She visualised the magic filling in the muscles and tendons of her arm and hand, imagined the tingle in her fingers. She focused on the image of those fingers curling and uncurling. Then, she opened her eyes.

Everyone was still there: Dorian, Varric, Dagna, and Bianca, all standing in a semi circle before her, but they weren't looking at her. Athim followed their eyes and realized they were staring at the metal hand at the end of her left arm. She looked down at it too. 

The arm itself was practically humming with magic. She wondered for a moment how obvious that would be to a non-mage and if that's what had drawn everyone's attention. She realized it wasn't limp anymore. Before, the metal had swung loose on the elbow and looked like an inanimate thing, but there was tension in it now, it looked like an arm, an arm with a slight bend at the elbow. She thought again about curling and uncurling her fingers and watched as they did with no additional effort than it took with her right hand. The group gasped.

"It did it again!" Dagna cried, clapping with joy.

"Hello," Athim watched with amusement as the four of them jumped at the sound of her voice. She looked at each of their elated faces and could sense something behind the elation, a feeling of anxiety which ran through the group that she didn't understand.

"It took longer out here than in there," the voice to her right was familiar, and Athim smiled without even turning to see him. "They were worried about you."

"Hello Cole," she pivoted to him and found he was just as she remembered. She wasn't surprised by his presence. It made sense that he was there. 

He said that he would be after all.

He gestured at her new arm with a nod. "It feels like you." Athim’s eyes watered and she looked down at the hand again, carefully bending the elbow and raising the hand to where she could see it easily. Dagna and Dorian were both gaping at her. Athim noticed and smiled sheepishly.

"That is amazing!" Dagna's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"It took me a week to reliably move a little finger on the blasted thing." Dorian's outrage was clearly only half in best. "How are you doing that so easily?"

"I…" Athim opened and closed the metal hand again, finding that she didn’t know how to respond. It was part of her and she could no sooner find words to tell Dorian how she knew how to breathe than to explain how she knew how to control it. "I don't know." She looked at Cole.

"The Fade likes you. It missed you. It wants to be a part of you: to help you be more you." He said cryptically. 

Before Athim had time to process this Dorian placed his hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" He gazed at her with an intensity that unsettled her. 

"I'm alright," he didn't appear convinced. "I am, I swear!" The earnestness of his concern troubled her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You were crying." Dagna sounded as serious as Athim had ever heard her. The elf touched her cheek in alarm and felt the damp trails of her unrealized emotion and she wiped them dry with her palm. She swallowed hard. They were  _ all  _ concerned, she realized, but behind that, in Varric and Dorian’s expressions, she could see hurt. Hurt that she had kept her pain from them, that she hadn’t trusted them enough to share it. 

She bit the inside of her cheek hard, casting her eyes down. Obviously they weren't going to take 'it was nothing' as an answer, but this wasn't something she was ready to share with this particular audience. The silence stretched on long enough that it was clear she had to say something. "The last five years have been… difficult." She struggled for words that could comfort her friends, but invite no more questions. She wanted to ease their worries and honesty, full honesty, wouldn't do that, but she also didn't have the heart to lie to them. "Especially at the end. I hadn't fully accepted and processed the loss," she glanced down at the metal arm again, "which meant I couldn't accept the new." The words came easier than she anticipated, easier than they should have. She wasn’t this eloquent or this adept at articulating complex emotions. Her eyes flickered towards Cole, who met them with a look of acknowledgement. She could see his mouth moving with words that were coming from her mouth. "I had to let go of the things I was holding on to too tightly," She swallowed heavily. "I didn't know you would see it. I'm sorry."

Dorian hugged her. She stiffened at the unexpected gesture. 

"I'm sorry I didn't see it," he spoke low in her ear. "You are my dearest friend and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." 

She put her arms around him and returned the hug."You were there Dori, but it wasn’t your hurt to heal."

"It's better now?" Varric's question prompted Dorain to release her. "Better than it was?"

Athim nodded. "It is. You did that for me, with your gift," she made a fist with the hand, feeling how the tide of magic rolled from the Fade, through her, and into it. The waves advancing and receding making it feel alive, the rhythm keeping time with her heartbeat. "If not for you I don't know that I ever would have accepted what happened. Thank you." Her companions smiled and a wave of relief swept through her.

"Right. Well let's not let it get to this point again, shall we?" Dorian put his hands on his hips with bravado. "I doubt I'll be able to slip away from Minrathous long enough to help build you another limb."

"Agreed," Varric crossed his arms. "I'm out of favors, remember?" He winked at Bianca who rolled her eyes.

"Please. Don't subject me to his jokes for another two months. I won't survive."

Athim smiled thankfully. "I promise." The air felt clear again, the atmosphere of anxiety cleared away. She cast her eyes to Cole for a brief instant, and he nodded softly. "Anyone for those drinks we talked about earlier?"

"Uh, one small problem with that." Varric advisedly raised one eyebrow.

"And what's that, Varric?" Cheekily, she crossed her arms back at him, the feeling of the motion so familiar but somehow new at the same time. 

"Now that you have two arms I don't think your shirt will fit anymore," he couldn't keep the laughter from his voice. Athim looked down at her shift and realized with an embarrassed start that he was right. "But by all means, lead the way." Dagna erupted in what could only be described as a cackle and Dorian guffawed.

"Um, well, why don't you all go ahead of me." Athim awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck with her right hand. "Get the Herald's Rest warmed up. I'll slip back to my quarters and meet you there."

"You sure darling? I don't mind rifling through your things in these desperate times," Dorian's eyes glimmered with laughter.

"I'm sure," she rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly I could use the break before the mess I know you'll have waiting for me at the tavern." It was Varric's turn to laugh at that.

"She knows us too well Sparkler." Hewinked. "We'll create a suitable distraction for your unclothed creeping. You coming, Kid?" He turned around to address Cole, but the spirit had vanished. 

He sighed and shrugged. "Oh well. Maybe he'll show up at the Rest considering how many hearts you're going to break with that new... boost of confidence." He winked at Athim once more then headed for the door.

"See you there, Miss Former Inquisitor," Bianca smiled, following Varric.

"Just call her Comtess. She loves that." He laughed. Athim groaned, appalled at the dwarf’s clear intention to spread the inane nickname to others. She really hoped that it wouldn’t catch on.

"Oh, I'm so excited! I'll have to see if I can find Sera, you know how she loves a party!" Dagna scurried after the other two. Dorian laughed at the way Athim's eyes widened.

"I have a witness," she said to him "You heard her threaten me, right?" 

His moustache quivered with laughter and he reassuringly patted her shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure you’re alright? It’s been a very emotional afternoon visit to the Undercroft.” She nodded quickly and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I really mean it. I am very alright now.” She put her hand on his and squeezed. “I didn’t mean to cut you out Dori. After defeating Corypheus and everything that came with it, then what happened with… the anchor…" he silenced her with an upraised palm.

"The feeling you have to keep a part of yourself locked away and invisible to everyone around you? Never heard of it." He smirked and she teasingly glared at him in response. "You don't need to justify to me, Athy. Take as much time as you need. I guarantee you and I will talk later. We'll keep the place alive until you arrive." He started off after the others, then pivoted toward her, nimbly walking backwards to continue towards the exit. 

"Congratulations, by the way. I'm absolutely sick with envy that it took to you so fast." Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

As soon as the door closed behind the mage Athim let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Alright," she said, seemingly to the air. "I take it we need to talk."

"Shadows cast by the wolf and the woods have hidden your path." His words seemed to come from everywhere. Cole appeared beside her. "Yes, we do."


	9. Spread my Spirit like a Flock of Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sycamore, ash, moss and loam  
> Wrap your roots all around my bones  
> And when they come for me  
> When they call my name  
> Cast my shadow from a bellow's flame  
> Cause I loved ya for too long  
> I loved ya for too long  
> I loved ya for too long  
> Old heat of a raging fire  
> Come and light my eyes  
> Summer's kiss to electric wire  
> But I'll never die  
> -I Will Never Die by Delta Rae

"You can put words in people's mouths now?" Her tone was curious. She deliberately did not ask about his cryptic comment, choosing instead to ignore it for the moment.

Cole shook his head. "I don’t put the words there, I can’t give you words. They're  _ your  _ words, I help you find them. I helped Maryden find the words to help before. Solas showed me I could." Hearing his name aloud stung, a switch against her ribs, but it was a clean, stinging pain not dulled by the apathetic cloud she had chosen to live in for years. It hurt, but it was almost refreshing to feel something so sharply. They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the wind, and Athim let herself feel it. She didn’t want to talk about Solas, not now, not when she was happy for the first time in so long, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. "Do you miss him?" Her voice quavered, and she hated how weak it made her sound.

"Not like you do."

“What do you mean?” 

Cole looked at her apprehensively, as if she was a porcelain vase who could shatter with the smallest provocation. Athim braced herself, fearing she was not ready to hear his words. After a moment, he turned away and spoke. “Solas is my friend. His presence is... comforting. He helps me help. I think about him when he is not around. It’s different for you. Your longing is a sharp thing. It cuts you when you touch it. Your regret ripples through the Fade like water as you move through the world.”

"Do mortal emotions normally distort the Fade around them?" Her curiosity overwhelmed the sting of truth in his words, giving her something to focus on that wasn’t Solas.

"No. Very strong emotions can call to spirits, like how I can hear the hurt through the Veil, but you touch the Fade in a different way than everyone else." Athim furrowed her brow in confusion. That didn't make sense. She no longer had the anchor, she was just a regular mage again. He responded to her thoughts as if she had spoken them. "The anchor changed you. It changed the way you touch the Fade and the way it touches you. You're  _ you, _ but you're more  _ it _ than you were before." 

She didn't know how to feel about that. Athim shook her head. She needed time to think, to sort through everything she had regained before she would be ready for the conversation Cole wanted to have. "Walk with me?" She picked up her shirt and jacket from the table as she went past, heading for the door. Cole followed behind her, gaze on the ground. At the top of the stairs, Athim opened the door a crack and peeked out. Contrary to her hope of a deserted hall, it seemed to be full to bursting. The last of the scouts and soldiers who would soon leave Skyhold seemed to  _ all  _ be saying their goodbyes or meeting with family members who had come to retrieve them in the main hall at that moment. She closed the door again and rubbed her eyes in frustration.  _ Some distraction Varric.  _ She thought.

"I can make them not see you," Cole mumbled behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes widening in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes… it will be easy."

Athim bit the inside of her cheek skeptically, then stepped into the hall, ready to dash back into the Undercroft if she needed to. But no one looked up; no one noticed her. She walked across the hall, attempting to quiet her steps.

"You don't need to do that. They can't hear or see us." Athim had been so focused on her own movement that she jumped as Cole spoke, having not noticed he was right beside her. She looked down the hall at all the people, some of whom were looking right past them. She wondered what it would be like to pass unnoticed like he could all the time, to not worry about being recognized everywhere she went. Athim had been the focus of so much attention since the explosion at the conclave she found herself yearning for anonymity. The attention had allowed her to help so many people, but she longed for the privacy she used to have. She sighed, continuing across the room and pulling open the door to her chambers. Reaching the top of the stairs, she tossed the clothing she held onto the sofa and approached the dresser for a fresh shirt.

"You're like him, you know," Cole broke the silence and Athim found her feet pinned to the floor, back tight with anticipation. She didn't need to ask who Cole meant.

"How so?" Her voice was as tight as the muscles in her back.

"He just wanted to help, he didn't want to be important. The people around him made him important. Just like you."

Athim forced herself towards the dresser, legs feeling suddenly stiff and clumsy. The thought that she and Solas were similar was at once comforting and distressing, as it also seemed to highlight the ways in which they were different.

"The anchor made me important, remember?" She said dismissively as she opened a drawer with both hands. It was a simple, familiar movement but the regained ability made it a pleasure. She dug under the shirts which had been specially tailored, looking for those which had been left whole. "It could have been anyone. At this point, everyone is just used to me." She pulled out a beige top with both sleeves intact and grimaced, there was a reason she hadn't wanted that one tailored. She put it back and kept digging until she found a white one she liked better.

"No… it couldn't have. It had to be you," Cole spoke in a tone so resolute that she felt compelled to turn to him. "It had to be  _ you _ ." Something about the intensity with which he held her gaze unsettled Athim. She quickly looked away from him, uncomfortable with the attention, and furrowed her brow as she pulled the shirt on. Cole wasn't being reassuring, he spoke with the authority of someone who knows their words to be true. She thought about this as she buttoned her shirt. Cole believing something to be true did not make it true, and as a spirit of compassion he was uniquely touched by the emotions of mortals around him. Perhaps spending so many years around people who felt so strongly that she was ordained had made it true for him, too. 

_ Or maybe _ said the voice in the back of her mind  _ he knows things you don’t. _ She looked at him again.  _ If he is right, what does that mean? _ Frowning, she pulled a coat from a chest. While she was happy that he was there, Cole’s words had sown seeds of doubt into her mind. She felt confused and overwhelmed by his presence, like he was discussing a book she hadn’t read. She didn’t know how to respond or what he was hoping she would say. She pulled on the coat and shook her head to release her hair, desperately hoping the movement would help clear her mind. Looking down at her left hand, Athim made a fist, then flattened it out, watching the way the metal moved like a living thing. It felt so real, like it had never been lost. As she looked at it her joy and confidence swelled again, pushing the negative emotions away for the time being. She decided she would worry about Cole and his strangeness later. Closing the drawer, she turned back to Cole. "Are you coming to the Herald, then?" 

He nodded. "It will be nice to see it again, and to see everyone."

"Everyone?" She asked, his phrasing making her suspicious. Cole smiled sheepishly, embarrassed by what was clearly a detail he had not been meant to disclose. " _ Fenedhis lasa _ , I should have known." This was Varric's doing no doubt. It was never going to be drinks with a few friends. "Well, no use avoiding the inevitable. Let's go meet our friends." Cole smiled so widely that Athim couldn't help but smile too, his obvious enthusiasm rubbing off so much that she ended up taking the stairs two at a time as she headed down.

Athim decided against using the tavern's front door; they would be expecting that. Instead, they took the path through Skyhold's garden up to the ramparts.

"Why are we going this way?" Cole looked up at the sky as they walked. She wondered how he didn't trip.

"Because they think they're going to surprise me, so I'm going to surprise them first," She chuckled at Cole's puzzled face. "It's fun." 

Athim realized she  _ was  _ having fun; actual fun for the first time in a long while. Not that getting unfathomably drunk with Dorian and making fun of Southerners wasn't fun, there was just a trace of bitterness to it; the knowledge that both of them were using it to avoid their own pain. 

This was  _ pranks _ . Like she used to do with Sera before, back when things made sense.

She wished she had pies.

They slipped into the tavern and crept down the stairs. Athim peeked over the railing to the ground floor and gasped. "Thom! Cullen!" Everyone's heads snapped around to look up at the second level, but Athim was already gone, galloping down the stairs to meet them. Cullen was closest to the bottom of the stairs, just getting to his feet as she came barreling down and gave him what could only be described as a leaping hug, her arms thrown around his neck. _ Her _ arm. Not a heavy lumbering prosthetic, but something that felt as part of her as her flesh had. It knocked him off balance, almost causing them to tumble to the ground, but Cullen wrapped an arm around her back, threw the other out to steady them both, and chuckled genially.

"Nice to see you too, Athim." He patted her back and she released him with an awkward smile.

"Sorry," she flushed slightly, embarrassed by her exuberance. Her eyes found Thom to her right, and she gave him a similarly spirited embrace, though without the momentum from the stairs.

"Hello, Athim." Thom's booming baritone reverberated through his chest into her, nostalgia warming her smile.

"What are you both doing here? I thought you were busy in Fereldan!" Her attention leapt between the men, oblivious to the others gathering around her.

"You didn't really think I'd let them miss this, did you?" Varric laughed smugly.

Thom clapped her on the back. "Varric got word to us weeks ago to head back for this little soiree. Glad I listened. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. Both of you!" Athim beamed. She hadn't realized how much she missed the men.

"Can we see it?" Josephine's voice was giddy and everyone nodded their agreement.

"Oh yes, please Athim." Leliana jumped in, sidling up to her side.

"Did literally everyone know about this but me?" Athim demanded, jaw slack with shock.

"Not  _ everyone _ ," Varric sheepishly replied.

"Just everyone in this room." She raised an accusatory eyebrow at the dwarf.

"Oh, who cares!" Sera pushed through the others. "Let's see the damn thing!"

Athim laughed and shrugged out of her jacket, holding out her left arm. "Here it is, you vultures." The metaphor was not inaccurate. The five who had not been in the Undercroft descended on her outstretched arm like birds of prey, leaving Athim to roll her eyes in Dorian's direction.

"Come now, after the Anchor I'd think you'd be used to people floundering around your left side." He smirked, sipping from a wine glass.

"One never quite gets used to people finding your limbs more interesting than you." She replied jokingly. She turned her hand over for the observers, slowly closing and opening it so they could get a good look at its mechanics.

"The workmanship is impeccable," Cullen sounded appropriately impressed. "And it moves with magic?"

"A combination of imbued lyrium and clever enchantments, courtesy of Dagna and the impregnable will of the wielder," Dorian chimed in with a presentational wave of his hand at the arcanist. He sauntered to Athim's side, placing a full glass of wine into her free hand. She raised it to him in thanks and took a long drink, relishing the sweet yet tart flavor of what she presumed to be an excellent vintage. It felt to Athim that even her sense of taste seemed sharper than it had several hours before. How tightly had she walled herself off that even the flavor of wine had been dulled? She emptied the glass without thinking, the sudden delight of her undiluted senses surpassing her better judgement. "That's the spirit," Dorian grinned, retrieving the empty glass from her.

"Alright, enough gawking. Could we all perhaps have a seat?" She pulled her arm back from the onlookers, using it to gesture at the tables at which they had been seated before her arrival. “Could Bull not make it?” She asked as everyone shuffled into seats. It made sense that Cassandra could not attend and Athim doubted they would have invited Vivienne, but the Chargers would have been a welcome and willing addition.

"Oh, he's here somewhere." Varric leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the table and hands tucked behind his head, a cat-like grin on his face. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

"And what does that mean?" Athim leaned over the table suspiciously. Varric didn't budge. She glanced around at the others, but everyone wore expressions of deliberate innocence that she didn't believe for an instant.

"Oh Athim, I have something for you." Cullen chimed in. The timing seemed suspect, an obvious attempt to move her attention away from the dubious absence of the Chargers. They knew her too well. Her curiosity outweighed her mistrust.

"You didn't have to get me anything Cullen." She relaxed a little into her seat.

"Ah, yes, well, not according to Mia. She had a fit when I tried to leave without a gift of some kind; turns out you aren’t supposed to turn up to something like this without one and, Mia being Mia, she had to be sure I brought the  _ right _ one." He rolled his eyes.

"Ooh, a gift?" Leliana leaned in, chin resting on her palm. "What did you pick out?" 

"Well, apparently my first idea was 'unacceptable and borderline offensive,' so Mia took over the gift getting task entirely." Everyone's eyebrows lifted.

"What was your first idea?" Josephine asked with a braced expression.

"A… um, a, a bracelet," there was a stunned moment of silence after this stammering admission, then the group, Athim included, burst into hysterical laughter. They laughed until they doubled over, tears streaming down their cheeks and gasping for air. All the while Cullen sat in the middle of the tumult with his arms crossed, his expression a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

"Yes yes, very funny," Cullen put on his best unimpressed tone as the group finally wound down.

"So what did the lovely Mia pick out for the Comtesse then?" Dorian refilled Athim's glass and put his arm around her, giving her a little shake as he used the despised nickname. She stamped on his foot and he let out a squeaking sound. She smiled at him with a fake sweetness that he returned, his brows pinched in pain. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck in a familiar nervous fashion.

"It's not all that exciting," he said, sounding hesitant. "I feel you've all made this a much larger affair than it needs to be."

"Cullen, what is it?" Athim smiled warmly, which seemed to give him the courage he needed to continue. 

"It's a book, I mean, a journal," he reached into the bag at his side and produced a beautiful leather-bound volume. Athim stood and leaned over the table. He placed the book into her hands, smiling with pride at the enraptured look on her face. It was solid and heavy with a metal latch that could be locked. Close up she could see it was carefully embossed with a detailed depiction of trees, like those of the Dales. The overall effect was that of sitting in the middle of a forest glade.

"It's absolutely gorgeous, Cullen," she hugged the gift to her chest and beamed at him. "I love it." 

"Good. Mia will be pleased. She does so like being right."

Dorian, dutifully sitting at Athim’s elbow, refilled her glass, which had somehow become empty. "I can't recall the last time we all got together like this. I must admit, I have missed it."

"You mean apart from three months ago at the Winter Palace?" Athim raised an eyebrow at him, leaning back in her chair and crossing her ankles loosely as she sipped her wine.

"I know what he means. You're positively bubbly, Athim." Josephine pointed out.

"Must be all the wine," Athim mused with a smirk.

"Having seen you wine drunk many times, I'd have to disagree. Something in the air, perhaps." Dorian returned her smirk. Athim stuck her tongue out at him and he responded in kind.

"It could be the fact that she's got two arms again," Varric tossed in. Athim glared at him and used her metal hand to throw him two fingers.

"Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?"

"You can't fault them for being surprised. When was the last time you hugged anyone,  _ Comtesse _ ?" Athim had two fingers for Leliana as well, who laughed at the gesture.

Thom let out a full belly laugh and raised his glass. "Well, thank goodness for it, whatever _it_ is. You needed this. Not the er, arm, although that's fine too. The party. I can't remember the last time I saw you relax."

"Probably because you never have,” she joked.

"Fair enough, I suppose. Something still feels different, and not just the arm."

"How so?" She felt different, but she wondered how much of that he and everyone else could see. He winced and she raised her eyebrows, inviting him to go on.

"Well, ever since…" he swallowed, nervously glancing around the table. Athim followed his gaze and saw that an air of discomfort had settled over the group at his words. She suddenly had a very strong inclination as to where the conversation was headed, and it appeared no one was willing to back Thom up. "ever since Solas left you've been... different. Not bad!" He added quickly, watching her face for any reaction. She smiled softly at him, the sentiment of his words outweighing any negative thoughts they stirred up. Reassured, he continued, "You seem more like you were before, now.”

"I appreciate your concern. All of you. Don't leave poor Thom on an island, you were all clearly thinking the same thing. You're the best friends anyone could hope for, truly. And you're right, Thom, I haven't been myself. I feel better now than I have in a long time."

Thom grinned with relief. "Well, here's to you, and to being yourself," he raised his glass, the others following suit, and ten vessels clattered into each other, wine and ale and maker knew what else sloshing out to fall in miniature puddles on the wooden tabletop.

"Enough  _ feelings _ ." Sera sneered, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I want to see what your magic whatsit can really do."

"It being metal and moving when she wants it to isn't impressive enough?" Dorian called over his shoulder while busying himself playing housekeeper, retrieving fresh tankards and bottles for the group from a sullen-looking Cabot.

"Not by a longshot." She leaned into Dagna, sitting beside her, head on the smaller woman's shoulder. "Come on Widdle, what can it dooo?" 

Dagna laughed, teasingly pushing her away. "Whatever she wants it to do theoretically, as long as her magic can support that whatever."

Bianca slid a metal tankard across the table to Athim. "Here."

Athim looked at her incredulously. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Crush it."

"It's full of ale."

"Well then drink it first, obviously. No sense wasting good ale." Varric laughed, hovering at Bianca's shoulder.

"You're serious." Athim picked up the mug in her left hand, the metal fingers softly clanging against its surface.

"Absolutely."

Athim looked at the metal tankard, then gave the dwarf a look of disbelief. She looked sure and smug, proud of her work and sure of its abilities. Eight pairs of eyes glanced eagerly between them, with lingering looks catching on the tankard and the hand which held it. With a sigh, Athim brought the cup to her lips, chugging the liquid inside with a voracity which prompted an impressed whistle from Thom. It was easier than she expected, which told Athim a great deal about the potency of the wine Dorian had been giving her. Looking at the tankard, she squeezed, and nothing seemed to happen. She focused on her hand, visualizing the fingers continuing to close, and felt the magic that flowed through it redirect and pool at her point of attention. 

Her hand snapped shut around the cup, crumpling it like paper. 

Athim's jaw dropped and everyone cheered. She stared at the destroyed mug, aghast. She hadn't thought it would have been possible; but after a moment she chuckled, wondering why she was surprised. This was Bianca and Dagna’s work. Impossible did not exist in their vocabulary.

"Told you." Bianca grinned.

"Never doubt Bianca. Trust me on this one." Varric chuckled.

"Very impressive!" Cullen seemed as surprised as she felt by the feat. Leaning in for a better look at the arm again.

Athim dropped the mug to the table and pointed one metallic finger at Sera's face. "You get to explain to Cabot about his tankard."

"Bah, I'll just tell him the Inquisitor did it and not else needed. You and Cheeky here have broken enough glasses he won't even be surprised." She gestured at Dorian with raised eyebrows as she said this, and he gasped indignantly, even as giggles began coursing through the others.

"I'll have you know that I have never broken a single glass. Sitting nearby does not make me culpable for her clumsiness."

"But getting her drunk does." Leliana smiled like a viper.

Dorian dejectedly sunk back into his seat, topping off Athim's glass before refilling his own. "Why I continue to associate with people who victimize me at every opportunity, I will never understand."

"Because we love you, and you love us. Ass." Athim elbowed him in the side.

"I suppose that must be it."

"This reminds me of that game of Wicked Grace." Varric rubbed his hands together. "Anyone up for a round?"

"Absolutely not." Cullen sullenly crossed his arms, prompting peals of laughter from the table, which he eventually joined in on.

By sunset the party had thinned some: Dagna had wisely spirited Sera away when the latter had begun tripping over her own feet more than usual, Thom had retired early with a comment about his age and the foreseeable state of his head the next morning, and Bianca had ducked out of the keep entirely, making hasty excuses about returning to her family before anyone was murdered, which Varric assured everyone was a legitimate concern. The Bull's Chargers had still not made an appearance, and their absence grew more conspicuous the longer it went on.

"They have something special planned for you, I'm sure. They'll show up when you least expect it." Leliana warned Athim, somewhat unnecessarily.

"'I'm sure' she says, as if Sister Nightingale had any doubts," Varric laughed, elbowing Athim in the side. "Watch your back Comtesse," 

Athim rolled her eyes. Varric had spent the whole evening convincing everyone to use the title, and she was already sick of it.

"It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Dorian pushed gently up on the bottom of Athim's glass as she drank, making her down the entire contents and leaving her sputtering slightly. "Less intimidating than 'Inquisitor,' but that just means everyone will be caught off guard by your imposing presence."

"And the fireballs," Josephine added in after a sip of wine, words slurring just slightly. "No one expects fireballs from a Comtesse." They all laughed as Athim glowered.

"Why does everyone else get cute nicknames and I'm stuck with this shite?" She set her cup down so hard on the table that it gave a little chime.

"I'm proud of it!" Varric threw up his hands. "What other Viscount would be rash enough to grant such a title to an elvhen mage? How many Dalish Comtesses even exist? Ruffles, I know you know."

"One, as far as I'm aware. I also don't know of any other mages with the title. You are certainly unique, Athim."

"Precisely!" Varric crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, looking smug. "Couldn't have you stop thinking you're special,  _ Comtesse _ ." Athim glared at him, her face pinched in annoyance, both at the nickname and the way everyone else chuckled at it.

"Another round, everyone?" Dorian had opened a fresh bottle. Athim wondered where he kept producing them from.

"One for me, please!" She tapped the rim of her empty glass, giving Dorian her warmest, tipsiest smile. Then there was a low, menacing voice right at her ear.

"That won't be necessary," she recognized the voice a second too late as The Iron Bull scooped her off her seat and hoisted her over his shoulder. She shrieked in surprise, hands grasping for her chair, the table, Dorian, anything, but everything had slipped out of her reach. "Afraid the  _ Comtesse _ will be indisposed for a while."

"Put me down!" She shouted, hearing the snickers of the Chargers suddenly all around her. How had all of them snuck in without her noticing?

"About time you lot showed up!" Varric laughed.

"We were about to run out of distractions!" Leliana added.

"Traitors!" Athim yelled at them, suppressing her own drunken giggles. She heard Krem's chuckle coming from somewhere near her, although all she could see was Bull's back. "Krem! Talk to him. Make him put me down."

"Sorry Boss," Krem was now very close. "The Chief has wanted to do this for years. I'm afraid there's no getting out of it now."

Resigned to her fate, she pointed, disoriented, at where she assumed the table was. "Dorian Pavus, if anything happens to my book I will hold you personally responsible!"

"Yes yes, fear not, I'll protect it with my life. Blah blah blah. Have fun!"

"Chargers!" Bull bellowed. "Move out!" With a cheer they all headed out of the Herald, singing the Chargers song as they went. Athim lolled against Bull's back, feeling more nauseous with every step. They reached the lower courtyard where a bonfire was raging. Bull finally took her off his shoulder and roughly set her down on her feet. Suddenly the smoke and the drink and the ride were too much.

"I'm gonna be sick," she announced before dashing in a not-so-straight line to a stand of bushes, upheaving her stomach upon their roots. "Better!" She cried after her stomach stopped rolling, wiping her mouth and spinning around to face them.

"Atta girl!" Bull snorted. "Krem, get her a bottle. Warm her up for the good stuff." 

Athim made her way to the bonfire to stand beside the Qunari, Krem met her there with a bottle which she took an ambitious slug from. The drink wiped the taste of bile from her mouth but burned down her throat. She coughed.

"Bull, If you ever carry me like that again I will test the tensile strength of my new hand by ripping your kidney out with it." He roared with laughter but Krem had the decency to look intimidated by the threat despite it not being aimed at him. "If this is the warm-up, what's the big event?" She asked. The Iron Bull had a talent for procuring the most foul, disgusting, and potent alcohol Athim had ever imbibed.

"The Chief got ahold of a bottle of Golden Scythe 4:90 Black," Krem told her. "He's determined to finish the whole thing tonight between the lot of us."

"A murder/suicide pact then? Good, good," Athim took another slug from the bottle. The burn didn't hurt so much the second time.

"Ah, you two are such cowards. It  _ probably _ won't kill us," Bull snorted before drinking from his own bottle. Krem and Athim shared a concerned, but unsurprised look.

"Inquisitor! Catch!" She couldn't tell which of the Chargers had yelled, but she did see the bottle flying straight at her face. In a blur, she snatched it out of the air with her left hand. Everyone cried out in awe at the catch; even she was caught off guard by the speed of the arm.

"Stop calling me Inquisitor!" She yelled in the direction of the throw. "I have a name, you know."

"Of course you do... Boss." Bull smirked. Athim glared at him and the glass bottle shattered as her hand tightened around it. Bull's eye widened slightly at the implied threat, but his smirk didn't move. The Chargers seemed to think this entire exchange was hysterical. She hadn't meant to do it though and as they laughed, she looked at her prosthetic, wondering why it had happened.

"Can you do that again?" Krem tossed her another empty bottle.

"Why?" She raised an eyebrow as she caught the bottle without effort. He shrugged.

"It was cool." Athim laughed and, with a shrug, smashed the bottle in her hand effortlessly. She laughed at the ahhs that followed.

"I crushed a metal tankard in the pub earlier and yet you drunk hooligans think bottles are impressive." She downed the last of her own bottle. "Bull can do bottles," she tossed her empty to him, which he caught and smashed in one smooth motion. Athim gestured towards him as evidence.

"Bull can do casks, can you do casks?" Krem smirked.

“Oh, fuck off, Krem.” She snarked, rousing another round of guffaws from the group.

"You've got an impressive toy there, Boss," he clapped her on the back. "I'd like to see what it can really do." She raised an eyebrow at the wicked look in his eye. "But first! Bring out the good stuff, Krem!" With a heavy sigh Krem retrieved the Golden Scythe and handed it to Bull. Bull uncorked it with a loud "pop" and held out the bottle to Athim. 

"Your party. Take the first swig, and don't die."

"It takes more than that to kill me," she smirked, took the heavy bottle from him, and took a long drink. Instead of the usual fire, the black scythe was like liquid ice pouring down her throat. It still burned, worse than she expected, but it also stole the air from her lungs and sent shivers through her entire body. She coughed and gasped, pulling air into her frostbitten lungs. "Fuck that hurts!" She hissed. 

Bull took the bottle from her hand, smirking until he took a swig and reacted in the same manner. "Damn that's good!" He handed it off to the next in line and it made its way around the Chargers. "Now, you and me, arm wrestle." He poked her in the chest and she drunkenly snorted.

"You sure you wanna go left-handed?"

"Oh trust me, the Chief goes left-handed all the time," Krem made an obscene gesture and the group howled. 

Athim snorted again. "Let's go then," she smiled smugly, the massive amounts of alcohol in her blood doing terrible things to her decision making.

"We need a table," the Chargers were quick to comply, running up to the Pub.

"You really want to tangle with the Inquisitor, Qunari?"

"You're not the Inquisitor anymore, remember? Just a Comtesse, and who's afraid of a Comtesse?" The table arrived just as Bull and Athim were about to glare holes into each other. Dorian, Varric, and Cullen followed it, eager to see what the hubbub was about.

"Uh, Athim, are you sure that's the best idea?" Dorian chuckled uncomfortably as the two of them dropped their elbows on the table and clasped hands, the delicate metal dwarfed in Bull's massive palm.

"If you break that thing Bianca is not going to make you another one!" Varric also sounded worried.

"If it can't handle this then she must not be as great a smith as you say," Athim tossed over her shoulder at him. He glowered.

"Kick his arse!" Cullen had gotten drunk since Athim had been spirited away and had joined the Chargers in cheering the two on.

"Still time to back out," Bull chuckled, his face a wash of confidence.

" _ Fenedhis _ . Let's go," Athim slapped her knee impatiently. Bull chuckled and nodded to Krem who took hold of their clasped hands, centering them. He glanced around, making sure everyone was ready, then with a shout of "go" released them.

Nothing happened. Or rather, nothing seemed to happen. Bull raised an eyebrow, and Athim gave him a strained smirk. He had clearly expected to win with no contest, but she was matching him.

"Atta girl!" He laughed. "But enough games. You're out past your bedtime." He pushed her arm back. The Chargers cheered. Athim narrowed her eyes.

"It's still early," she focused and her arm's backward movement stopped. "I don't want to go to bed." She pushed her hand back to center and, as Bull's brows raised in amazement, past center to take a lead. "You really think I'd let you beat me when you're not even trying?" 

"Oh-ho-ho," he grinned. "Bring it on, little girl," It wasn't until then that the contest seemed to really begin. Their clasped hands moved one way, then the other, neither one taking a lead. The cheering diminished, all observers becoming enraptured by the small-scale action. Athim found herself becoming annoyed. Bull was now making an effort, but he was toying with her, letting her gain ground in order to take it away like a cat with a mouse.

"You're teasing me." 

He shrugged. "It's what I do," he could see her annoyance growing and smirked.

"Well, stop it." She growled.

He chuckled. "Why would I do that? It's so entertaining." He was having too much fun with it, she realized, to stop. That made her angry. A sound like a growl escaped her throat, and suddenly Bull’s hand was nearly touching the table. Grunting, he redoubled his efforts, the smile vanishing from his face, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He pushed her arm back and she struggled to keep her knuckles from the table.

"Don't feel too bad," he said, voice low, face arrogant with confidence. "We all already know you can't pin a man down." He was hoping to throw her off with the words, catch her off guard and break her focus for an easy last push to victory.

What he got was quite the opposite.

White-hot anger rushed through Athim like an explosion. Those who were watching her face swore they saw her eyes flash white and the mages felt a rush of magic burst forth from her. In an instant Bull's arm flew back, knuckles slamming into the table hard enough to open cuts in them. 

There was a stunned silence. Athim's rage receded almost immediately and she pulled away from Bull, astonished at her own fury. She looked at the hand, her eyebrows pulling together. How had she done that? She hadn’t meant to. She looked up at Bull, who was staring at his hand, still on the table where she had left it, then looked at her, shock written in every feature.

"That. Was. Fucking. AMAZING!" He jumped to his feet and the Chargers, following his cue, lost their minds: screaming and cheering and jumping. At least one broke a bottle over their own head. Athim's awe changed to delight and Bull smiled the biggest she'd ever seen him. Krem clapped her on the back.

"I don't think anyone has ever beaten him before. He will never stop telling this story," he winked before holding up a familiar bottle and shouting to Bull. "Chief! The Scythe! Not much left. You want it?" Bull collected the bottle from Krem and after looking at it for a moment pressed it into Athim's hands.

"To the victor go the spoils!" Bull cried. Athim laughed and held up the bottle in a salute before tipping it up and finishing it. Scalding ice burned through her entire body with each swallow. Bull laughed raucously. "Now _ this _ is what I call a party!"


	10. Blood and Bones, They Keep Me Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking off your face mask  
> Heating up your cold back  
> I could never turn you down  
> Charm me with your devil eyes  
> Drop a dose, I'm hypnotized  
> Dripping in affection  
> Honey, you're infectious  
> But I'm heaven on my own  
> Wasn't born to face you  
> Don't confuse the sweet talk sweetheart  
> I, I been saving myself  
> I'm saving myself  
> Blood and bones, they keep me warm  
> Good without your favours  
> I don't need a savior  
> -Savior by No/Me

_ Warm wind rustling through long grass.  _

_ The smell of chamomile flowers and embrium.  _

_ Eyes closed, Athim breathed in deeply and as she exhaled she opened her eyes. The sky reminded her of the crossroads, shimmering with color just at the corners of her vision. She felt the hard ground beneath her back, the grass brushing her bare feet, and someone else's hand in her right. _

_ "This isn't real." She said matter of factly. She held up her left hand and saw that it was made of flesh and bone. She found she didn't like it.  _

_ Closing her eyes again, she focused on her arm and what she wanted it to be. When she opened her eyes the flesh had been replaced with the more appropriate metal. That felt better. There was a familiar chuckle from her right; every sound of it tugged at her heart. _

_ "It will never cease to impress me how easily the Fade bends to your will." That was his voice. Those were his words.  _

_ But Athim knew better. _

_ "You're not really him. You're a reflection created by my mind and given form by the Fade." She said the words out loud for herself. Speaking them made them real, real for her. It helped her have better control. _

_ "That's true."  _

_ She took another breath. "It's been a while since I dreamed. Even longer since I've had such a nice one." _

_ "Since you let yourself, you mean."  _

_ She nodded, feeling the grass shift under her head. "After you- _ he _ left there were only nightmares. I found I couldn't change them anymore, couldn't control them even though I knew what they were." _

_ "Fear and pain limiting your abilities, even here." _

_ "Probably," She sighed. "Every night became an exhausting, terror stricken search for you- _ him _. Every morning I woke drenched in sweat, heart racing. Even waking I saw him in shadows, in every half-glimpsed stranger on the road. It was too much." _

_ "So you cut off your nose to spite your face."  _

_ It was an accurate assessment. She had begun pushing away and ignoring parts of herself in order to avoid the pain of memory. She'd stopped dreaming entirely, she'd started drinking with Dorian, then alone, to numb the constant pull of the Fade. Spellcasting became more difficult and so she became desk-bound to ignore that as well. She had been so afraid of the pain that she didn't see how the avoidance of it was changing who she was. _

_ "He would hate that I did," she felt a small smile turn her lips. "You- _ he _ taught me to love the Fade, to greet it like an old friend. He taught me how I could use it and bend it." _

_ "You could call me  _ him _ you know, just to make conversation easier," it sounded so like him.  _

_ She finally turned her head to the right. The fabrication that looked like him was lying beside her, looking up at the sky. It was a testament to her memory how real he looked. Nothing half remembered and filled in by imagination. After forcing herself not to think of him for so long, she'd expected some haphazardness in her mind's construction. He looked just as he did when they had dreamed together and she had to resist the sudden impulse to reach for him, to run her hands over the lines of his face which she knew so well. He turned to look back at her, and when his eyes met hers she felt her heart constrict. _

_ "I won't let myself begin to believe this is true. I can't. You're not him. You only appear to be him." _

_ He chuckled. "He would be proud, I think, of your objectivity." She laughed, he would. "You could remove me, just like how you changed your arm, if my presence is distressing." _

_ "I know." She half sat up, arranging him so she could lie her head against his chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and she wrapped her own around his body. The familiarity of the embrace hurt but somehow comforted her. "For right now, appearing to be him is fine." She closed her eyes and the thing that wasn't Solas stroked her hair as she fell asleep. _

  
  


Her eyes opened slowly then snapped shut again, the light like daggers stabbing straight into her mind. Why were there so many windows but so few curtains in her chambers? 

_ Her chambers? _

She forced her eyes open again to confirm. She had indeed awoken in her tower chambers. The last thing she remembered was downing the last of the Scythe… it occurred to her that it would probably be more strange if she  _ did _ remember anything after that. But how had she gotten back? Sitting up, she took stock of her state of undress, noticing a pile of clothes at the foot of her bed which she recognized as those she had been wearing the night before. Dorian then. She reasoned that he was the only of her companions who would have been comfortable undressing her before dropping into her bed. Feeling more secure in her surroundings, she fell back into her pillows and rubbed at her eyes. 

She felt good. Her mind was quiescent; free from the dark tumultuous sorrow that had haunted her every waking moment since Solas's initial disappearance. Gone too was the numb apathy that she had draped like a shroud around her shoulders in order to keep functioning. The touch of the Fade had washed her clean of them. The heartache was there, as were the painful thoughts and memories that went with it, but they no longer dominated her consciousness. She felt better, in fact, than she realistically should; her head would normally be pounding after half as much as she'd imbibed the previous night. She wondered why that was.

"Chamomile and embrium," with a start she sat up again. Cole was kneeling beside the dresser, examining the polished drawer knobs. "Chamomile and embrium are good for headaches." Athim blinked, she remembered now, an herbal tea recipe taught to her by Deshanna a lifetime ago, she had forgotten. Cole shook his head. "Not forgotten," he said, "Just misplaced. I'm glad you're dreaming again."

Cole's presence made Athim feel completely awake in an instant. He never showed without a reason. "How would dreaming of chamomile and embrium help me not have a headache?"

"You make it real. You make the Fade more than it is by being you." 

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What do you mean? Because I'm a rift mage?" 

He shook his head again as he stood, his eyes wandering the walls. "You're more than that. Even without the anchor." She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't understand what he was saying to her, what he was clearly trying to tell her. Trying to comprehend him made her thoughts feel fuzzy, probably as a result of the heavy drinking. She needed a bath. Athim shook her head, rubbing her eyes again. Dropping her hand to her side, she found him watching at her with an intensity that caught her off guard. 

"Where is it?" 

Athim knew immediately what he was referring to. Her body tensed and, panicking, she slammed mental walls around the knowledge, not wanting him to see, although she knew it was too late. "Where is what?" She tried to sound oblivious. 

His eyes unfocused. " _ The requested asset will be awaiting you at Skyhold upon your return.  _ Relief. Breath coming easier. _ Thank you for your discretion.  _ Another secret to keep. Closer than the others. They won't understand, call it dangerous, try to take it from me. Can't let them." His eyes refocused on hers and they stared at each other.

"It's mine." Her voice was hard.

"Why did you take it?"

"I needed to."

"Why?"

Athim opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't find words. Pulling her knees tight against her chest she averted her eyes from Cole's piercing gaze. She didn't know if words existed to explain what had prompted her to go to Leliana. The Spymaster had been hesitant; there were obvious risks. Keeping it close was better than not knowing where it ended up, however, so she had relented.

With a sigh Athim released the walls in her mind. She felt embarrassed by her defensive response to his questions. Cole was not capable of judging her and he would never try to take it away from her. Of everyone in her life Cole was the one person who would be able to understand. She met his eyes and watched him watch her as he muddled through the weeds of her reasons and justifications, and then he smiled his awkward smile.

"It helps." He glanced towards the side room then back to her. "Just knowing it's there." She nodded. He seemed satisfied with this, and she realized he never cared where it was; he only wanted to understand the tangled connection it had with her pain. He had said before that the more he understood about mortals and the complexities of their pain, the easier it was to help the right way first. "You should talk to Dorian." His attention had moved again, gazing out toward the rest of Skyhold over her balcony.

"About it?" She tensed at the thought. 

"About your dream: the chamomile and embrium. About the Fade," He glanced at her. "And about  _ it, _ if you want. He may not understand, but he won't try to take it from you."    
Then he was gone, between one blink and the next.

Athim wasn't able to go back to sleep; Cole's words churned about in her mind. Further rest no longer an option, she pushed herself out of bed and began to dress, marveling again at the way her metal arm moved and felt almost more real than the one that was flesh. Like the Anchor had been, it was a tether to the Fade, but unlike that strange anomaly this connection was a part of her, not a remnant of Elvhen magic merely attached to her. It was the difference between seeing the world through an open window rather than stained glass.

As she finished dressing, Athim found herself drawn to the balcony overlooking the fortress where the last tendrils of dawn were still burning away, the sky still stained pink. She took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and leaned on the railing. The daily activity of Skyhold had already begun. Soldiers ran through their morning drills, servants ran about on their errands. The distant smell of freshly baked bread wafted towards her.

It was strange and refreshing to feel content being alone with her thoughts. She felt motivated for the first time since the Exalted Council; she was tired of wallowing. As a private citizen Athim now had nothing but time, and she intended to do something with it. She headed for the stairs, but stopped before reaching the first step. Her eyes had caught on the side room's doorway. 

She hadn't actively thought about it until Cole had brought it up and, now reminded, she felt drawn to it. Most of the doorway was filled up with tapped barrels of fresh water for drinking and washing, but on the left hand of the arch there was enough room to slip inside the space. She did so and put her hands on the curtain she'd had installed after returning from the Council, which divided the room in half and, more importantly, hid the rear part of the room from passing eyes. 

She pulled the curtain aside.  _ It _ was covered with a large cloth, just the pointed top of the gilded frame showing where the fabric had slipped. Stepping forward, she took hold of the cloth and, taking a deep breath, pulled it down. The heavy cotton slid away with a sound like rushing water and pooled on the ground at the mirror's base. Athim was left staring at her own face in its slightly murky, reflective surface. She looked tired, but had lost the shellshocked quality in her eyes since she'd last seen herself. Stepping back, she allowed herself to bask in its objective beauty. It was easily fourteen feet high, barely fitting in the space, and absolutely breathtaking. She hadn't seen it since before departing the Winter Palace. When Leliana had it smuggled out and back to Skyhold it had been covered and Athim had been near it only long enough to have it hidden away in her chambers. Seeing it again took the air from her lungs. 

The Eluvian was deactivated, it's surface reflective but cloudy, an effect similar to that of looking at oneself through a heavy fog. She gently laid her right palm against the cold glass, pushing probing tendrils of power to feel the still enchantments and deeper magics within it. The trigger to activate them eluded her senses, it felt alive in the way it avoided her scrutiny. She had the distinct sense that if she could just examine the magic that powered the ancient gateway she would be able to activate it.

Athim reached for it again, but a niggling at her real world senses distracted her, a sound, and the trigger pulled away again, just out of her reach. Annoyed more than worried, she turned her attention away from the Eluvian to ascertain what had disturbed her focus. She expected a bird or a strong gust of wind, but she froze when instead a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Athy? Where have you gotten to?" 

_ Dorian. _

From his tone it was obvious that it wasn't the first time he'd called her name:  _ that _ was what had drawn her attention. 

She hadn't had time to decide if she would reveal the elvian's presence to him, but she knew she wasn't ready now. He was moving about her chamber looking for her, and checking the side room would be an obvious choice. 

Slipping out from behind the curtain, she pulled it closed then pressed herself against the wall and listened. He didn't sound close, so she chanced a peek from the doorway. With relief she discovered him on the far balcony, seemingly distracted by the view of Skyhold. She threw a glance to the door beside her dresser which led to the room's overlook. Focusing on it she Fade Stepped, her magic allowing her to pass the dozen or so steps over her bed, and with a quick left turn, through the door. The rush of adrenaline that came with casually using her magic in a way she hadn't for months was exhilarating. She didn't realize how much she'd missed it and involuntarily let out what was very nearly a giggle in delight.

"Athim? Is that you?" Taking a breath to steady herself, Athim opened the door and stepped into the main room to meet Dorian. His face lit up as she emerged. "There you are. What were you doing in there?" 

She shrugged. "It was very bright out here, too many windows," she faked a wince and he chuckled.

"I can imagine. I've never seen you in such a state as last night," there was a sparkle in his eye that sent embarrassment flushing up her cheeks.

"What exactly did I do?"

"What exactly do you remember?" 

That was a bad sign.

"I remember the bonfire and the arm wrestling, and drinking what was probably a deadly amount of Golden Scythe."

"Is that all?" He raised an eyebrow. She paled. "Oh that  _ is _ all." He laughed as a look of horror spread across her face. "Tell you what, you help me finish packing and I'll divulge all the sordid details." He took her elbow and led her towards the stairs, laughing again at her aghast expression.

"You swear?"

"I do, although I sort of adore this terrified look you've got. You look just like a Fennec with your big eyes and big ears. I can't stand it." She punched him gently.

"Rude," but she was smiling again. "Alright, fine, but I need to see Leliana first."

"Deal."

She let him lead her down the stairs, Cole's ominous advice all but forgotten.

  
  


Dorian chose to wait in the library as Athim took the steps up to Skyhold's rookery which was eerily silent so early. Even the birds were quiescent, their heads down and eyes closed. As Athim had expected, Leliana was already awake. She sat at her desk going over various letters and notes. She must have heard Athim's footfalls on the stairs and looked up from her work as the elf approached.

"Good morning Athim," one corner of Leliana’s mouth turned up. "I would never have expected to see you so early today. How are you feeling? Golden Scythe tends to be rather debilitating."

"I'm feeling fine," Athim was beyond accustomed to Leliana knowing everything that went on in Skyhold. "Surprisingly so. I doubt most will be so lucky."

Leliana laughed, the sound ringing like chantry bells. "Indeed. What can I do for you, my friend?"

"How are our remaining residents doing?" Leliana had a better vantage than she did for morale. 

"Good, I'd say. I keep my agents busy, which keeps the staff paid, and the guardsmen are happy to still be serving."

"I've been considering continuing the restoration of Skyhold. Give those guardsmen something more than serving to do, as long as the coffirs allow, of course."

"I think it would be appreciated, and I can make sure the money is there."

"Could you locate Gatsi Sturhald? He planned and coordinated so much of the original rebuild, it wouldn't feel right continuing without him."

"Of course, an excellent idea. I'll connect with my contacts today to track him down and contract him again."

"If you can find him I'd prefer to handle the correspondence myself, actually. I can't go on riding you and Josie's apron strings forever."

Leliana's eyes widened ever so slightly, if you didn't know her well it likely would have been invisible. "Of course. A very good idea."

"I appreciate it." Athim said giving a wave and turning towards the stairs. "Thanks. Leliana."

"Of course. Let me know if there is anything else you need."

Foot raised to descend the stairs, Athim stopped, a thought occurring to her. She put her foot back down and looked back at Leliana who raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"What do you think the chances of tracking Morrigan down are?"

Leliana raised her other eyebrow in a look of curiosity. "Not good I'd say, she's very good at vanishing when she wishes to." She tilted her head slightly to the right. "Why?"

Athim glanced down the stairs, unsure how well her voice would carry to Dorian's position in the library. "I acquired an... antiquity at the Winter Palace recently that she has a great deal of knowledge regarding." She and Leliana shared a knowing look. "I'd like the opportunity to ask her about it. Through correspondence would be acceptable."

Leliana nodded. "I understand. While I would not bet on our odds I will make inquiries. There may be others knowledgeable on the subject who could be contacted. None likely as well versed as Morrigan, but they may still be of assistance." She nodded. "I'll cast a wide net and report back anything I can find."

"That sounds good." Athim was positive that if Morrigan knew she held an Eluvian she would turn up, but that was knowledge she intended to keep close. There were  _ certain others _ whom she did not want knowing the mirror's location. "Thanks again." She headed down the stairs. If Leliana offered any response, Athim did not hear it as she found herself deep in thought. 

If anyone could help her unlock the secret of activating the Eluvian it would be Morrigan. But would she help? And what price would she demand?  _ What would she do if she knew the truth? _ That thought stopped Athim in her tracks as she reached the library. Morrigan, who had given birth to a child in order to reclaim the soul of a dead god, who sought to keep the old magic alive and learn its secrets, what would she do if she knew about _ him _ ?

Goosebumps pricked her flesh. The temperature of the room seemed to drop.

She shook her head to clear it. Even Leliana had said the chances of finding Morrigan were slim at best. It was likely Athim would not have to deal with such questions.

"Ready?" Dorian's voice shook her free from her thoughts as he came up to her elbow from across the room. He raised one bemused eyebrow and Athim flushed slightly. It was embarrassing how often he caught her lost in her own thoughts.

"Yep." She once again took his arm, flashing a stunning smile.

"What was all that about?"

"Just some plans I want to get moving. If they ever come to fruition, you'll no doubt hear about them." He raised a suspicious eyebrow at her, but apparently decided it was not worth pressing in the moment.

"What do you say to some breakfast? I find myself a bit peckish."

"And you'll tell me everything that happened last night?" She asked nervously, voice a little too high, squeezing his arm.

"Ha, nice try. The deal was I’d tell you  _ after _ you help me pack." He said, smirking. .

"You're enjoying torturing me, aren't you?" They stepped into the main hall, where the sounds of cutlery clanging together and the murmur of still sleepy voices indicated breakfast was beginning to be served.

He rolled his eyes as he led her to a table. " _ Obviously _ . Another half an hour won't kill you and you need to eat."

"Yes, Mother."


	11. In the Endless Sky We are but One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the world you know was like it is  
> I held a lover once and I was his  
> And we walked along the river in the sun  
> But he's a lonely man, so this was done  
> The only place we had to meet was night  
> While the sun he sleeps in shadows we can hide  
> On the mountainside we spent our time together  
> But it is gone when morning comes  
> And you are the wolf  
> And I am the moon  
> Moon  
> And in the endless sky we are but one  
> We are alive  
> In my dreams wolf and I  
> -Wolf & I by Oh Land

"I'm afraid I have to make a confession to you," Dorian sighed. Athim raised an eyebrow at his admission as they walked from the main hall towards his quarters. "Don't worry, it's technically a positive. I'm afraid I was not quite honest before when we discussed the messaging crystal. They will absolutely work perfectly well while I am on the road to Minrathous."

"Dorian Pavus. You filthy liar." She attempted to sound stern but couldn't manage to wipe the smile from her face.

"I know, you must be terribly disappointed in me. In my defense, I was coerced by several co-conspirators."

"Couldn't have me reaching out with you sneaking around Skyhold."

"Exactly. That would be hard to explain when I'm supposed to be riding across the mountains or on a boat crossing the Waking Sea. Oh, don't mind that cavernous echo Athy dear, it's just a new stone boat! Very progressive!" He glanced over his shoulder at her as he opened the door to his room. "You obviously trust me implicitly, but I feel that may have been a stretch."

"It would have been worth a try, if for nothing else than the entertainment value.”

“But not worth spoiling the surprise.”

“It was a very good surprise.” They shared a smile, then she looked into the room and cried out in alarm. 

It was a disaster. 

Clothing was scattered on every surface: piled on the floor, flung over the backs of chairs, draped on the bed frame, even hanging from the sconces. Books were stacked up in all corners, some so high that the door opening caused them to rock and teeter precariously. One particularly treacherous stack wobbled and fell, books sliding onto the floor and intermixing with the discarded clothes. It was as if Dorian’s cases had exploded when he’d first arrived and he’d never bothered to do anything about it. Athim turned to stare at him in disbelief and he had the decency to look embarrassed.

"How do you live like this?"

"Easy for you to say. You barely own anything." Dorian scoffed. Athim shrugged; he wasn't wrong. 

Dorian's cases were already out and open so they got to work collecting his things, folding, and packing them.

"Are any of these books mine?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "From the Skyhold library, you mean?"

"That's what I said." 

He laughed. "Let's say all of them as I don't care enough to take the time to sort through them," he shrugged. "Since I'm actually leaving this time, Leliana has insisted that I depart at dawn." His tone made it clear this was not an arrangement he agreed with, but couldn't argue.

"Where did you go last time? I watched your convoy from my balcony until it disappeared from sight."

"My sweet naive Athy, I didn't go anywhere. The moment your back was turned I scurried back into the castle."

"But the-"

"The convoy of Sister Nightingale's scouts I imagine scattered across Thedas to do their sneaky little jobs."

"Oh, I feel like an idiot." She covered her eyes with her right hand and Dorian laughed at her.

"To be fair to my dear, it was supposed to be convincing. The whole thing was Leliana's plan. She's on a different tier. You can't hold yourself to that kind of standard, Herald of Andraste or no." Athim’s lips pinched petulantly and she threw the shirt she held at his face. He retrieved it from his head, his carefully coiffed hair somehow remaining perfect, and smirked at her. 

They folded in silence for a few minutes. She wondered if Dorian had worn a different outfit every day he had been back at Skyhold. The sheer amount of clothing he owned was daunting.

"How are you doing?" Dorian asked suddenly, and Athim raised her head to find his expression had turned serious. "You've had a very brave face on these past few days, but I wonder how deep that goes. I know how comfortable the mask can become when you don't often have a chance to take it off."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not as good as they think," she gestured with her head to the rest of Skyhold as a whole. "But I am better than I was."

"It still hurts." It wasn't a question.

She nodded. "Unbearably at times, but I'm not going to hide from it anymore." She gave a half shrug. "It will always hurt. I can't keep killing myself trying to avoid that." 

"And you know you can always talk to me, Athy. Any time, day or night. I'm here for you."

She smiled, warmth spreading through her. "Thank you, Dori."

Athim let the silence hang for a moment as she folded then let her empty hands rest gently on the edge of the case in front of her.

"I dreamt last night."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "It has been a while, hasn't it? What did you dream about?" She gave him a withering glance. "Right, stupid question."

"It was nice," she smiled wistfully. "In a field that smelled of chamomile and embrium. I woke up with no headache at all."

"A convenient coincidence. So  _ you-know-who _ was there?"

"His form, yes. He always is." She sighed. "But it wasn't a nightmare this time. I'm taking that as a good sign."

"I would. After what Cole said, I worry."

"What Cole said?" Athim's thoughts turned back to her conversation with the spirit that morning.

"While you were… inside. Activating the arm. He said you cut yourself off from the Fade, more or less. No dreams, no magic. I'm glad that that's not the case anymore."

She nodded. "I am too. I didn't realize I was doing it, or rather how bad it had gotten." She shook her head. "I just wanted the pain to stop. Feeling nothing seemed preferable at the time."

"I can understand that," he nodded.

"What did you mean before? A ‘convenient coincidence?’"

He appeared confused for a moment. "Oh! Just the fact that chamomile and embrium are good for headaches." He chuckled. "It's funny that you happened to dream of those scents and then woke with no headache."

She blinked dumbly at him. “Doesn’t it make sense that that would be the case?”

"No hangover, and now dreams affecting the waking world?" He laughed again. "It's a little late to try and convince me you're godly, don't you think? Good build-up, though. You had me going for a moment."

He thought she was joking.

He sounded so confident that Athim suddenly felt foolish, embarrassed by her own belief. Cole's words played over in her head. The spirit's surety is what had convinced her in the first place, but now she felt confused. She laughed, mask snapping into place over her discordant thoughts. She didn't want Dorian worrying about her again. "I almost had you!

"You did, you sneaky little thing. So tell me honestly: how bad was your headache this morning?"

"It really wasn't too bad," she shrugged and he shook his head in disbelief.

"You are either the luckiest woman alive or the greatest liar of our age," he laughed again. 

She started gathering more clothes from around the room, giving herself a few moments to think. Cole was of the Fade. The stuff that made him up also made up that place. He wouldn't be wrong about it. She decided she would ask him directly the next time he showed up, whenever that happened to be.

Something caught her eye in the growing pile of clothing in her arms, stealing her attention completely. Carefully, with just the tips of her finger and thumb, she pulled the item loose.

"Dorian?" He looked up and immediately paled when he saw what she had found. "What is this?" The black lace item was sheer and clearly intended to be worn on intimate locations for intimate activities.

"Never seen it before in my life," his pallor and panicked expression tore down the lie before he'd even begun it.

"Oh Dori, you little minx!"

He held out his hand. "Just toss whatever that is over here, won't you?" She gave him a wicked grin and his tone became serious. "Athy, give it here."

"I thought you'd never seen it before? Maybe we should take it around, show it to people, see if we can find the owner." Athim raised one eyebrow. His eyebrows dropped in annoyance and he lunged for her. She dropped the pile of clothes and shrieked, racing for the door, tearing it open and dashing out onto the terrace.

"Athim Lavellan! Get back here with that or I will send you straight back to the Maker!" He ran after her while she danced along the walls, laughing maniacally. 

"You'll have to catch me first!" She shouted over her shoulder before running straight into a battlement wall, bouncing off and falling down. She heard Dorian laughing as he approached. With a triumphant yell, he reached for the pilfered item in her hand, but before he could grab it Athim rolled up to one knee and Fade-stepped straight through him, back the way they came. He spun and shot her an incredulous expression. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oh, is that how we're going to play?" He called after her. She raced off again and he took to her heels. Athim rounded the corner, back towards Dorian's room, cackling wildly. 

The sound became a sharp gasp as a line of wards, gleaming bright red, materialized directly in her path. There were too many to clear all of them, even with a Fade step. She back-peddled, trying to slow her momentum before she touched them, but she'd been running top speed and knew she wasn't going to stop in time. 

As she screeched to a halt, her left foot brushed the first of the crimson marks, and it lit up. Athim's eyes widened and she sprung backward just as the marks erupted in explosive flames, landing in Dorian's waiting arms. He took hold of the thing in her hand and snatched it away in one movement.

"Don't play games with me, Athy. I'm very good at them."    
She spun around and pouted at him."Cheat! You could have set me on fire!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, you would have been singed at worst. Besides, you know I hate it when you Fade step through me. Rattles my brain and makes my teeth taste funny."

"Everything makes your teeth taste funny. Maybe you've just got funny teeth."

He chuckled. "I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but shall we get back to work?" 

"Fine, I suppose. But really, what was that?" The lacy thing had vanished, no doubt tucked away into some hidden pocket of Dorian's robes.

"That, my dear, is information your delightfully feminine mind need not dwell on or, in fact, consider at all ever again." She rolled her eyes at him then headed back into his room to scoop up the clothes she'd dropped. Dorian closed the full case on the bed and set it aside, readying another in its place. "Up for a little hair of the dog after this?"

"Of course."

"Well then let's quickly finish up. It's far too late in the day to be this sober."

She gave a firm nod, a smile on her face as they resumed packing. At the back of her mind, she filed the question of camomile and embrium away.

  
  


Cabot seemed less than impressed to see Athim and Dorian again so soon. With furrowed brows, he brought them their usual bottle of wine and two glasses, setting them down on the table harder than necessary. "How are the two of you not dead?" They looked at each other, somehow managing to maintain straight faces to match Cabot's serious tone.

"I'm blessed by Andraste. What's your excuse?"

Dorian shrugged. "Years of practice."

Cabot looked at each of them in turn then grunted something that sounded like "uh-huh" before returning to the bar. The two of them held it together until he was out of earshot then descended into giggles. Regaining his composure, Dorian uncorked and poured with an expert hand before sliding one glass to Athim.

"Alright, I helped you with your excessive amount of packing, now it's time to hold up your end of the bargain."

"Are you really sure you want to know?" She glared at him and he put up his hands in defeat. "Alright, a deal is a deal. After you finished off the Black Scythe everyone seemed to lose their collective minds. Somehow you ended up with a fresh bottle which you rapidly polished off, despite my and Varric's insistence that any more alcohol was a poor decision."

Athim, already anticipating the worst, downed her glass of wine and pushed it to Dorian to refill. He did so with a vicious smirk as he continued.

"Cullen put you on his shoulders, which was a bad idea for everyone involved.”

"On his shoulders? But why?"

“You said you wanted to be taller than Bull and the poor man thought he’d oblige you. But between his wobble and your wobble and you attempting to take swings at Bull, it ended about as well as you can imagine.”

“Oh no,” Athim put her head in her hand, expression pained.

“Lucky for you I was there to break your fall, but the commander wasn’t so lucky. That drop is what put him down for the night. Cremisius, who I must say was a shining voice of reason throughout the entire beautiful disaster of a party, got some of the Chargers to drag the dear, sweet, unconscious commander to a bed for the night. You fell over yourself in gratitude. I think you may have kissed him.”

“I. Did. Not!” Her head snapped up, face twisted in indignation.

“How would you know?” Dorian laughed at her. “Maybe you should check up on the boy, he’s been so lonely since Maryden left for greener pastures you know,” he wiggled his eyebrows obscenely and Athim punched him. 

"I think you're projecting. Who did you kiss?" She wiggled her eyebrows back. Dorian's lips pursed and she gasped, the sound loud in the quiet room. "I was right!" He was squirming in his seat and she delightedly refilled her glass.

"I thought you wanted to know what  _ you  _ did while blacked out."

"Oh, but this is much more interesting." She leaned over the table, bringing her face close to his. "You can tell me, I'm good at keeping secrets." She winked and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm telling you we are not discussing this."

"Was it Cullen? Are you protecting his honor?" She was giddy. "Tell me it was, even if it's not true. Can we tell him that he kissed you? Can you imagine his face?"

"Maybe hair of the dog was the wrong choice," he glanced at her wine glass. "I do believe you're still drunk."

"One of the Chargers?" She saw a twinge in his eye indicating that she was getting closer. "Did one of them drag  _ you _ to a bed for the night?" He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Dori, you dog!"

"You know this was a lot more fun when you were the uncomfortable one."

"For you, maybe! Grim. Stitches. Rocky. Wait, did  _ you _ kiss Krem?"

"I really think this line of questioning is getting out of hand-"

Athim's eyes expanded to the size of saucers. "It was Bull, wasn't it?" He glared at her and she erupted in hysterical laughter. "So the dragging was literal then."

"Yes, well, at least I didn't start disrobing in the courtyard before passing out in an empty ale barrel." He was pouting, the statement had clearly been intended as the climax of his retelling of events before Athim mucked it up.

Her smile fell. "You made that up." 

He shook his head, smirk returning. "Rocky wanted to roll you around until you woke up or vomited. Cremisius put a stop to that. Really, that man is an angel." 

Athim gave a deep sigh. "Is that everything, then? I don't know if I could take much more."

"That's all that I remember, anyway." He shrugged. "After that, I deposited you in your bed and dashingly stumbled down your frankly lethal staircase to seek my own unconsciousness."

"Well, I suppose if you're going to throw a party, make it one no one will forget."

"Here here." They clinked their glasses together and drank.

"So how long will the trip to Minrathous take?" She sipped her wine, relaxing into the chair.

"You appear to be taking my impending departure much better this time around," he raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried? Has another dashing rogue sauntered into your life and captured your attention?"

"Don't be an idiot, you know you're the only dashing rogue for me."

He laughed. "And the only one who would put up with you, I'd wager."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Answer the question, ass."

"Approximately a week of riding to reach the Waking Sea. A ship should be waiting when I arrive if all goes as planned. Roughly a week to Jader to change vessels which, again, should be waiting if Andraste is kind. Then another two weeks sailing to Minrathous." He looked positively green at the prospect of so much time at sea. "Of course that all assumes favorable weather."

"Couldn't you avoid most of the sea-travel by traveling through Nevarra?"

He nodded as he took a drink. "In theory, yes. Nevarra, however, is less than keen on Imperium citizens, particularly Magisters, passing through." He sighed in a resigned manner. "The red tape and dirty looks are worse than the seasickness by far." The nauseated quality his expression had taken on was not convincing and Athim laughed at him.

"I think your abysmal seasickness is a natural balance to the seeming impossibility for alcohol to make you sick. It wouldn't be fair to everyone else if you were impervious to vomiting."

"Could we not discuss vomiting?" Cullen, who had wandered over during their discussion, looked much worse for wear after his raucous night.

"Commander! Join us! Wine?" Dorian offered the bottle and Cullen shook his head, looking disgusted.

"No thank you, I drank enough last night to last me the rest of the age. I'm only here to see you both before I go. Figured this is where you'd be."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at Athim. "Uh-oh, we're becoming predictable."

"Good thing. If we were drinking in the dungeons Cullen never would have found us." She replied before turning her attention to Cullen. "So soon?"

"Yes. I actually had intended to leave at first light but I, uh, had a little trouble… well, being upright." He chuckled. 

Athim got to her feet and put her arms around him, an embrace he returned warmly. "It was so good to see you, Cullen. I'm glad you were able to come."

"As am I. Maybe we can plan for slightly less alcohol next time we get together, though. I'd like to remember the entire evening if possible."

She laughed, releasing him. "I can't promise anything, but we can certainly make the attempt. You know how these boys can be." She gestured with her head towards Dorian.

"I'm sorry, are you lumping me in with Varric and Bull now?" The mage made a show of sounding offended.

"As an instigator and troublemaker?" She raised a brow at him. "Absolutely." He shrugged and pushed himself to his feet, giving Cullen his own quick hug.

"Probably the last time I'll see you old boy, unless you plan on visiting Minrathous."

"Not likely," Cullen laughed and clapped Dorian on the back. "You know, I do believe I'll miss having you around."

"Wonders abound. I very much think I'll feel the same." Athim observed as they each gave the other a humble smile, both of them acknowledging the unanticipated respect they bore the other.

"Oh Maker, just kiss already." she couldn't keep the cheeky smile off her face. They both, as expected, pulled back from each other; Cullen rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and Dorian gaping at her in mock outrage.

"How very dare you, Comtesse Lavellan. We were having a bonding moment and you ruined it." They all laughed.

"I should be going. My horse is already saddled." Cullen put his hand on Athim's shoulder, his head warm smile tinged with sadness. "My friend, if you ever have need of me you only have to say the word."

His hand felt heavier than it should. "Thank you, Cullen. I will." He gave her a curt nod and, with a quick wave over his shoulder, headed out the door. Dorian collapsed back into his seat, making quick work of topping off both glasses with the bottle. Athim watched after Cullen for a moment longer before resuming her own seat.

"You're not going to cry, are you?" Dorian was observing her pensive expression over the rim of his wine glass.

"No," she picked up her own wine. "Cullen is a good man. He's earned a real rest."

"Here's to him then, and his long-awaited reprieve." Dorian held up his glass. "May we all someday be so lucky." Athim raised her glass to meet the toast then they both downed what remained of their wine. Dorian set about refilling them, emptying the bottle in the process.

"Looks like we'll need another."

"I'll speak to Cabot." Athim stood up again and he raised his glass in thanks. She headed over to the bar, where Cabot was making himself busy wiping down the bar top. His eyes flicked up to her as she approached, prompting her to smile awkwardly.

"Hey Cabot," she gave an uncomfortable chuckle. "Sorry about… well, basically everything last night."

He grunted. "You really beat The Iron Bull at arm wrestling?"

"Haha, yeah. You heard about that?" She cleared her throat. "Really sorry they stole your table for that."

Cabot studied at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. Athim waited for his anger but he just nodded and, shockingly, tilted one corner of his mouth up in what could almost be called a grin.

"Good lass." Then he placed a full bottle of uncorked wine on the bar. 

"Thanks," Athim took the bottle with a dazed look and carried it back to the table.

"What happened to you?" Dorian took in her expression with a bemused smile as she wandered up.

"Cabot smiled at me."

"You must be drunk. That dwarf has never smiled in his life." The unexpected deep voice and hearty guffaw snapped Athim's attention back to the table where Thom was now seated comfortably, leaning back and looking very well-rested.

"Thom? When did you get here?"

He let out another guffaw. "Wandered in while you were at the bar, of course. You seemed engaged so Dorian invited me to have a seat."

"I didn't think you'd mind, Athim dear."

"No of course not! More the merrier, I say." She set the bottle down and took her seat next to the bearded man. "How are you feeling today?" She smirked.

"Me? I turned in early, remember? I heard about your night, though. Never thought I'd see you wandering around after that!"

"The rumors of the Comtesse's death have been greatly exaggerated." Dorian threw her a wink.

"That makes more sense. I heard you drank a bottle of Black Scythe and beat Bull at arm wrestling. Seemed a little far-fetched if I'm honest."

"I did not drink the whole bottle." Athim retorted seriously.

"Barely a quarter of it I'd say." Dorian agreed.

Thom glanced from Athim's face to Dorian's, checking to see if they were joking. "Are you shitting me?" His eyes bored into Athim. "You beat  _ The Iron Bull _ , who’s got hands the size of dinner plates, at arm wrestling?"

Bull's booming laughter overtook the Herald as he descended the stairs. "She sure as shit did! Split my knuckles too." He held up his left hand so Thom could see the closed wounds.

Athim shrugged as if it was nothing. "He did throw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and kidnap me from my own party. I feel like he deserved it."

Thom rolled his head back in exasperation. "I go to bed early and miss the event of our lifetime. The hangover would have been worth seeing that!"

"The event of our lifetime?" Krem pulled up a chair and sat down, a few other Chargers following suit. It appeared their band was down a few members, but at least some of them had made it out. "Miss Inquisitor here destroying the unkillable, world-threatening darkspawn magister was, what? A leisurely stroll through the woods?" He gave Athim a wink and she immediately looked at Dorian with thinned lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. There was a loud 'thump' from under the table and Dorian let out a high pitched sound before clearing his throat.

Cabot chose that moment to arrive at the growing group with a tray. He handed full tankards to Thom and each of the Chargers with his usual dour expression among muttered “thank yous.” As he placed a fresh bottle of wine on the table between Dorian and Athim, he tossed another smirk in her direction. A hush settled over the group as he walked away again.

“By the Maker, you broke him." Blackwall seemed to be in shock. Bull and the Chargers laughed.

"Reality bends to Athim's will, the normal rules just don't apply to her." Dorian joked.

"Oh come off it." She rolled her eyes. "Thom, are you going to be around Skyhold for a while?"

He shrugged. "I was considering it. No real rush to be anywhere."

"What about you and the boys, Bull?"

Bull gave a shrug to match Thom's and gestured at Krem who answered for him. "Can't promise anything. After helping save the world The Bull's Chargers are in high demand. But we don't have any current contracts."

"Oh, excellent." Athim grinned. Taking a drink, she noticed Dorian's raised eyebrow.

"What are you up to Athim?"

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure I'd have some big strong men around. Remember my conversation with Leliana this morning? I'm arranging to have some work that needs doing."

"You think you can just put us to work?" Thom gaped, voice incredulous.

"Well of course I do," she laughed. "It's worked for the last five years."

"The Chargers don't work unless they get paid." Bull fixed his eye on Athim and she met his doubtful look with one of her own.

"You enjoying that ale, Bull? And the roof over your men's heads?" She raised an eyebrow. “I could go ask Cabot for your tab if you’d rather pick that up.” Krem and the Chargers laughed as Bull's grin flattened.

“Speaking as one of those men, I must say we are most definitely enjoying those things.” Krem tossed in, and the other Chargers loudly expressed their agreement.

Bull frowned and narrowed his eye at Athim. “That's a dirty trick, Comtesse.” 

She shrugged and took a drink. “With no world-ending cataclysm requiring your services, I’ve got to make you earn your keep somehow.”

Krem jumped in again. “Some of the boys would be more than happy to help out when we can, Boss. When we’re here, of course.”

Athim smiled so warmly at Krem that he flushed. “Thank you so much Krem, that’s all I would ever ask.” She flicked her eyes back to Bull with a smug smile.

“Who’s in charge of this mangy pack of wardogs?!”

“Chief, you’ll always be our leader. We would follow you to the ends of the earth without question,” Bull puffed up and opened his mouth to, presumably, tell Athim off, but Krem continued, cutting off his triumphant moment: “But when we’re in the Lady’s house, it’s the Lady’s rules.” Everyone laughed and Bull closed his mouth with an annoyed expression.

“Traitors, the whole lot of you.”

"What kind of work will this be?" Thom emptied his tankard.

"I think it's about time we finished patching up Skyhold. A lot of improvements were put on hold because of the world almost ending."

"A fine idea. Keep all the hangers-on busy."

"Who are you calling a hanger-on, Thom?" The bearded man threw up his hands in surrender at Bull's glare, but the Qunari was smirking. 

The Herald was starting to fill up as the afternoon stretched on. Scouts and soldiers, duties done for the day, headed in to relax. Most had a wave or a nod of hello for Athim, who returned them as best she could. Varric shuffled in with one of these groups. He noticed the large party and gestured to Cabot to bring the table a round on his way to join them.

"A goodbye party? For me? You shouldn't have!" He pulled up a chair next to Dorian.

"Well good thing we didn't then," the mage chuckled. "Really the party sort of found us, didn't it?"

Athim nodded at Dorian in agreement, then cast an inquiring glance at Varric. "Goodbye? You finally going back to Kirkwall, Viscount Tethras?"

"I am indeed, Comtesse Lavellan. Bright and early tomorrow morning." Cabot had arrived with fresh tankards and Varric took one gratefully. "I hear me and Sparkler are heading the same way so Sister Nightingale suggested Bran and I join their party.'

"Oh lovely, Bran's scintillating company all the way from here to the Waking Sea. It's a dream come true." Dorian grumbled.

Varric shrugged. "I would say he's not that bad, but he really is."

"Two against one, at least. We'll have the odds on him." Dorian raised his glass and Varric touched his tankard to it.

"This is probably the last time we'll all be in the same room together like this." Athim let the thought slip out of her mouth unabated. The table quieted quickly at the statement. A beat passed as everyone gathered glanced around at each other.

Thom unexpectedly stood up and raised his tankard. "To all of us. To friendship, comradery, and hitting back harder when the world hits hard."

Bull followed suit, towering over the table. "To kicking ass."

Then Varric was on his feet. "To the stories they'll tell about us, even the true ones." He winked at Athim.

"To the woman who brought us together." Dorian raised his glass to Athim as he stood and the Chargers followed suit. He gave her a smirk indicating he knew and enjoyed the fact that she was once again the center of attention.

Athim took her time, looking over them, her throat tight with emotion: these lovely men who followed an elven mage without reservation and had come to mean so much to her. There was a feeling of finality in the moment, her long time companions giving her a true final goodbye before she set out into an uncertain future: a future over which the shadow of the Dread Wolf hung heavy and into which her friends could not follow. 

_ I walk the dinan'shiral. There is only death on this journey. _ Her mind echoed Solas's words, igniting purpose in her heart.

Not if she could help it.

At last, with a deep sigh, Athim got to her feet, holding her glass high. "And to all the paths we'll walk. Together or apart. No matter where you go a piece of each of you will always live here at  _ Tarasyl'an Te'las _ ."

The Chargers gave a cheer: "Horns pointed up!" They all raised their drinks a little higher before emptying them.


	12. I'll Do What I Have To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the things we've lost  
> Oh, we can feel it like a blade  
> Cutting through our hearts  
> I will search night and day  
> I can't lose you  
> What would I do  
> Don't wanna live without you  
> I'll do what I have to  
> I'll keep searching on  
> Till I find you  
> I find you  
> Woah-oh  
> In the eye of the storm  
> I'll save you  
> I'll save you  
> \- Find You by The Phantoms

Before the sun rose the next morning, Athim woke and dressed. She had dreamed of the field of chamomile and embrium again. The thing that looked like him had been there. It had been much the same as the previous night: pleasant, but meaningless. And like the morning before, she had awoken with no headache, for which she was grateful. 

As she worked her way down and through the keep, she pondered Dorian’s comments regarding the impossibility of what had happened. He had been trained at the most prestigious circle towers in the Imperium. If he said it wasn’t possible, it stood to reason he knew what he was talking about, but she also had no doubts about what she had experienced. Athim had no idea how to rectify the dissonance of these two indisputable facts. Research, she decided as she stepped out of the main hall into the brisk pre-dawn air. Surely something in the Skyhold library could point her in the right direction, and if not there were universities and libraries she could write to throughout Thedas which might hold the key. 

It was cold enough that she conjured a small flame in her palms to warm her hand. Turned out that one of the troubles with having a single metal hand was rubbing her palms together no longer helped to warm her up. As she headed down the stairs to the main courtyard, she could see light emanating from the stables, confirming that she had arrived early enough to see the party off. Hurrying across the empty open courtyard, she glanced up at the fortress’ large gate and the bridge leading across the effective chasm to the only road in or out. Since the Inquisition's arrival at Skyhold, the gate had only been closed once: behind Athim and her compatriots as they left to face Corypheus for the last time. Pilgrims, refugees, and volunteers had begun showing up almost as soon as they had arrived and they never wanted anyone to be met by a barred entrance. When Coryphyus and his dragon had returned to the ruins of the temple, too close for comfort, they closed the gates to protect those inside. As she passed the portal, she had the bittersweet thought that the gates would likely be closed soon enough.

Athim slipped into the stables and found them bustling with activity. Pack animals were being loaded with provisions and luggage, and mounts were being saddled. The elf slipped between animals, moving around guards and scouts as they worked, most of whom were so busy they didn't notice her presence. She was intent on locating Varric and Dorian and pleasantly surprised that the staff neither slowed her down nor alerted anyone to her presence. She found them towards the back of the space, conversing together as they waited for the mounts to be made ready. As she sidled up to them Varric noticed her and gave her a quick wave which prompted Dorian to turn.

"Good morning Comtesse, sleep well?" Varric smirked, giving her a pseudo-bow.

"Very well, Viscount Tethras. I trust you had a pleasant evening as well?" She mock-curtsied at him.

"Oh, this is wonderful. The two of you would be an absolute riot at an Imperium Ball.” Dorian's moustache twitched in amusement.

"I'm sure Varric would be right at home. I'd be afraid someone would try to murder or purchase me."

"And then you'd set that person on fire or freeze them into a solid block and suddenly everyone would be lining up to make your acquaintance."

She raised a churlish eyebrow at Varric. "Maybe we should go to one of these parties."

He chuckled. "We'll see if I can get away from Bran. I'm afraid that once he's got me back in Kirkwall he'll never let me leave again."

"I'll get you out. Storm the keep and kidnap you under duress."

"It would not be under duress I can assure you."

"Athy dearest, what are you doing out here at this ungodly hour? Have you finally broken down and come to beg me to take you away with me?" Dorian interrupted, propping his hands onto his hips and smirking cheekily.

She snorted. "Not likely. I love you desperately Dori, you know that. But I'm not showing up in Tevinter as your presumed lover, or servant, or pet, or whatever else the Altus would assume I am."

He made an acquiescent face. "That's a completely reasonable objection actually."

"I came out to see both of you off, you conceited twit." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, you have good timing. Leliana's scouts are just finishing up saddling the horses." Almost on cue, after Varric said this one of the scouts approached them, saluting Athim.

"Viscount Tethras. Magister Pavus. Everything is prepared, we should begin." They both nodded to him and he saluted Athim again before walking away.

"You two gained such fancy titles, I lost mine, and yet he still salutes me."

Varric laughed. "Titles aren't everything, Comtesse." She rolled her eyes again.

"As much of a pain as you can be, I will miss you very much Varric." She admitted. He held out his arms and she hugged him, his grip tighter than she had anticipated.

"You take care of yourself." He patted her back. "And write. I'll open your letters."

"I will. I promise." They released each other and she swore that for a moment she saw tears in his eyes. He blinked and they were gone if they'd been there at all.

"I should go get mounted. Always takes a little longer than I think it will." He gave her a nod and she smiled appreciatively in response before he turned away towards the horses leaving Athim and Dorian alone.

He sighed. "Well, we've done this before. Should be old hat by now."

She responded by throwing her arms around his neck. The sudden embrace nearly toppled them both over. Dorian recovered and put his arms around her back giving her a squeeze. They stayed like that for a moment in silence.

"I thought it would be easier this time around." Her voice was slightly muffled against his shoulder. She felt him nod. "I was so determined not to cry this time."

He gave a chuckle. "I have that effect on women." This statement was closely followed by a sniff as he struggled to keep his own emotions in check. "We'll speak every day."

"And I will find a way to visit. I swear to Andraste, I will. Even I have to set half of Tevinter on fire."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, not that some of them don't deserve it."

She laughed and squeezed him again, blinking back tears before releasing him. "Never let anyone forget that you saved the fucking world Dorian Pavus." She let one hand drift down to his forearm and squeezed gently, meeting his eyes. "You've done more good for Thedas than any of them. Don't let them take that from you."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" He smiled. "You're the strongest person I know Athy. You think the Anchor and The Inquisition made you strong, but you've got it backward." He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "I shudder to think what would have occurred if it hadn't been you. It had to be you, I think," he nodded decisively, "no one else could have accomplished what you did."

She smiled sheepishly. At the back of her mind Cole's similar words from days prior echoed. Was that what he meant? That her strength made her better suited to use the Anchor for the purpose of Coryphyus' destruction? "Be safe Dori. I expect to hear everything about your trip."

"Every saddle sore and roadside privy pit?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Every boring minutia. You better take notes."

They both laughed then she hugged him again. "Goodbye, my friend,"

"Goodbye, Athy. Don't do anything rash without me."

"I'll save the rash decisions for when I visit you."

"Sounds perfect." He patted her back and released her. Around them, it looked like everyone was saddled and ready, but respectfully not making a fuss about it and pointedly not looking at the pair. "Get inside where it's warm now," he patted her shoulder, "we'll talk this evening I'm sure."

"We better," she shot back. He gave her a last wink before finding and mounting his horse. Athim located Varric in the group and waved, a gesture he returned.

"Kirkwall is a good pitstop on the way to Tevinter, Comtesse." He grinned "Feel free to stop by, I'll show you around!"

Those at the head of the group gave their mounts a tap and began trotting towards the castle's gate. Many of the scouts saluted her as they went past and she nodded in return. Varric and Dorian waved as they rode off and she waved back, then wrapped her arms around herself as she watched their departure. With a heavy sigh, she headed back up to the keep. As she did the first trickle of dawn crept over the horizon. Athim considered heading up to her chambers to watch the traveling party recede into the mountains but decided against it.

She'd spent too much of the last two years watching people leave.

Athim headed into the warm keep and straight for Josephine's office where she found a roaring fire in the hearth and the ambassador hard at work, head buried in a stack of letters. “Good morning Josie,” Athim smiled as the woman started.

“Oh, Athim.” She recovered her composure immediately. “I did not hear you come in. I'm not used to seeing you so early. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could help me with the letter to the de Fanciers. I'm hitting a block and not making any progress.” She approached the desk, eyes skimming over the stacks of official-looking correspondence. "Although you seem to have a lot of work left. Aren't you supposed to be leaving tomorrow morning? Do you want some help with…this?" She gestured vaguely at the mess.

"Oh!" Josephine looked delighted. "That would be most helpful. Why don't you pull up that chair, I'll clear some space here." She set about shuffling piles of papers around the desk to make room for Athim to work while the elf dragged one of the room's heavy chairs over to face the desk.

"So," Josephine resumed her seat and Athim followed suit. "How far did you get in your response to the de Fanciers?"

"I read their letter about sixty times then I was out of ideas," Athim smiled apologetically and Josephine rolled her eyes.

"I will help you with the de Fancier letter then we will split the rest of these. Deal?"

"Deal."

The sun was high outside the windows of Josephine's office when they wrapped up their work. Athim estimated it was a little past midday. A scout had retrieved an enormous pile of letters to be sent out and the desk was finally clear. Athim's hand was sore from writing and she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Josephine laughed softly.

"I'm very pleased with your work. I can scarcely believe that two years ago you were terrified to write a single letter."

"Defeating ancient darkspawn seemed a simple task compared to diplomacy." Athim chuckled. "I'll never have your eloquence but at least now I'm not afraid to do this without you."

"You have your own eloquence, Athim. Your words may not be as refined, but they come from a place of truth. You have never been known for your flowery language and I think corresponding in such a manner would do you a disservice. Your letters very clearly come from your own hand, and for many that fact is worth more than all my eloquence."

"You think people will keep my letters like some kind of holy artifact?" She laughed, "a letter penned by the Blessed Herald of Andraste?"

"You joke but I think that is exactly what some people will do."

Athim shook her head in disbelief, she would never understand the depth of faith she inspired. She stood up and stretched. "I should put this back," she patted the back of the chair then set about moving the hulking piece of furniture back to its place before the fireplace.

"Oh, I completely forgot!" Josephine jumped up from her chair and plucked an immaculate envelope with a red wax seal from one of her drawers. Athim got the chair in place then turned to face the other woman as she came over with the envelope. 

"This came for you from the capital yesterday. I was going to have it delivered to you today, but then there you were and there was so much work to be done!" she laughed.

"From Val Royeaux? Who is it from?" She took the envelope from Josephine's hand. The paper was thick and felt very expensive.

"Look at the seal." Josephine pointed.

Athim looked at the envelope. Her name was written in an unrefined blocky text: 'Athim'. No titles or honorifics, just her name. She turned the envelope over and found the letter fixed with the seal of The Divine. Seeing this, she excitedly ripped the letter open, expensive velum falling in pieces to the floor. 

The handwriting indicated that Cassandra had written the letter herself rather than having a scribe take dictation. Athim imagined the fuss which had likely been raised by this decision and felt herself smiling. Divine Victoria had her own way of doing things.

My Friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and good health. I am sorry I was unable to attend your celebration. Varric sent word and I had hoped to attend, but the fussing hens who surround me and their list of duties never ends. You would think the Divine would have more agency in her own activities but it is abundantly clear that my wishes are secondary to those of the clerics and courtiers. 

It is incredibly frustrating.

I hope the device which Varric commissioned for you is everything he claimed it would be. I am eager to see it. I will be making a trip to Skyhold soon. Officially my visit is to check up on the state of The Inquisition’s disarmament and confirm that the agreement is being followed. Truly I am coming to see you, my friend. It has been too long and I find you in my thoughts often.

I do not know exactly when I shall arrive but it will be within the month.

With my best wishes,

Cassandra

Athim grinned up at Josephine as she completed reading the letter.

"What did she say?" Josephine sounded as giddy as Athim felt.

"She's coming to Skyhold."

"Oh, of course after I leave!" Josephine put on an over the top disappointed face before grinning again. "Hopefully she'll be back at the Grand Cathedral before I make my way to Val Royeaux." Athim narrowed her eyes slightly, brows tipping up in confusion, and Josephine hastily explained. "Oh! I forgot to mention. I am not returning directly to Antiva. I am making a number of diplomatic stops around Thedas before returning home. To smooth relations for the Montilyets to establish new trade routes.”

“Oh, Josie, that's great!”

“Yes, but it does mean I must leave first thing in the morning to keep my schedule. I was worried about not completing everything in time. Thank goodness for you.” She beamed at Athim, who sheepishly looked at her own feet in response.

Josephine placed her hand on Athim's shoulder prompting the elf to look up at her again. "Thank you for everything, Athim."

"Oh Josie, it was just a few letters, really it was nothing."

"I don't mean the letters and you know it." She rolled her eyes teasingly. "It has been my honor and pleasure to work with you and become your friend."

"Oh, Josie," Athim put her arms around the other woman in a friendly embrace. Josephine returned the hug, giving Athim a little pat on the back as she did.

"If you ever need anything just send word to Antiva. I will do everything in my power to assist."

"And you do the same. I can't imagine you needing my help for anything, but if you do I am here."

"Oh, Athim." Josephine laughed as she released her. "I think if you ever stopped being humble the world would probably end."

After having lunch, Athim climbed back up to her chamber and located the journal Cullen had given her among the things on her desk. She trailed her fingers over the place where a lock should sit. Something magical would be needed, she knew, with Leliana in the Keep anything less would be pointless. 

Taking a seat at the desk she flipped the cover open to find her name "Athim Lavellan" printed in a fine if loopy hand. She smirked. It wasn't Cullen's handwriting so it had to be Mia's. She turned another page to the beginning of the blank pages and pulled a quill and ink from her drawer.

"What are you writing?"

She didn't look up at him, attention focused on the pen nib. "Plans." She carefully dipped the pen into the ink and in her careful, spidery script, began writing. Cole read over her shoulder, eyes following her hand, saying nothing until she picked up the pen to retrieve more ink.

“You’re going to tell them?”

She nodded. “Not everyone. There’s no point in panicking them all when there’s not much they can do. Besides, they’ll all want to come back and they deserve to have their lives.”

“Who then?”

“Leliana, Cassandra, the people who can help.”

“And Dorian,” She looked up at his grey eyes which were watching her, plucking thoughts from her head.

“And Dorian. Yes.” She went back to writing, Cole observing. The scritch scratch of the pen nib against parchment was the dominating sound for many minutes as Athim poured out her thoughts and ideas onto the pages.

Finding Solas would be hard. He could be anywhere. It was even possible he wasn’t in Thedas at all considering the power he possessed. Morrigan had, after all, lived for years in the Crossroads raising her son. Thinking of this, Athim glanced at the doorway to the side room where the eluvian lay. If she could only get it activated she might have a better chance. It had led her to him once, perhaps it could again. Unfortunately, outside of continued research and involving Leliana and Cassandra, she didn't know how to begin her search in earnest. Even that may not be enough. There was no telling how much time was left.

At last, she put the pen down and leaned back in her chair.

“All good ideas,” Cole said, leaning over the journal. “Someplace to start.”

“Cole?” She said his name slowly. “What do you think of his plan?”

He looked at her, sensing the change in her emotion as she observed him. “What do I think?”

“Ripping down the veil. Rebuilding Arlathan. Destroying the world of mortals in a storm of chaos in order to reclaim what was lost. Do you have any opinions on that?”

He stood up straight and slowly walked around the desk, fingertips gently brushing over its top and the items scattered across it. Athim waited patiently as he circled the desk, eyes on everything but her. He was pensive, but Athim was unsure if it was because he didn’t know what to say or that he didn’t know how to say it.

“A lot of people will die,” he said at last, eyes resting on her staff which was leaned against the wall beside a bookshelf.

“Yes.” She nodded, voice and expression guarded. “A lot of people will die either way.”

"That won't be your fault"

She fixed her honey eyes on his grey ones. "Won't it?"

He shrugged, turning away from her to look out over Skyhold. She looked back down at what she had written, then began cleaning the pen nib and putting everything away.

"Will they believe me? What happens if they do? What happens if they don't? Anxiety twisting in my stomach like a blade. So many many secrets, both mine and his. Too many."

Athim's hands stopped moving and she closed her eyes. "Too many."

Taking a breath she opened her eyes and finished placing the quill and ink away, then closed the journal. As her fingers brushed over the catch Athim decided she would speak to Dagna about the creation of a magically charged lock. She was sure Dagna could create such a thing in her sleep.

"You didn't answer my question, Cole."

He looked at her, just his head turning away from the view of Skyhold.

"I know."

They gazed at each other in silence for several minutes.

"But you'll help me."

"I will." He nodded. "As much as I can."

She nodded. The motion both a thank you and acceptance of his lack of a clear answer to her question. He smiled, his own thanks for her understanding, and turned back to the view over Skyhold.

She stood up from the desk deciding she would speak to Dagna before retiring to the library for research for the rest of the day. Stretching, she looked to Cole, intending to invite him to join her, but he was already gone.

It was evening when Athim once again mounted the stairs to her chambers. As she climbed she pulled the sending crystal from beneath her shirt and examined it. She could feel the delicate enchantments woven into the stone but unlike her arm or the eluvian, they were quiescent and cold, like writing on a page. She let a breath of magic flow from her fingers into the crystal and it lit up, glowing with a soft light. Nothing seemed to happen at first and Athim rounded the top of the stairs to sit on her couch. She watched the crystal as the light pulsed for several moments, then Dorian's voice was in her ears.

"Hello my dear, I see you puzzled out how to activate the crystal." The sound of his voice didn't seem to come from the stone itself but from nowhere in particular. Athim hypothesized that the magic flowing from her into the crystal acted as the catalyst for this phenomena and she wondered if anyone in the vicinity of them during one of these chats would be able to hear both sides of the conversation.

"It wasn't enormously difficult," she said, her smirk evident in her voice. "The enchantments on the stone were pretty self-explanatory."

"Oh, that's right! I forgot your particular knack for that." 

Athim had spent much of her youth alone studying, and using her magic to probe enchanted items had been a common pastime. She had thought this understanding of the intricacies of magical items was commonplace for mages; after joining the Inquisition she had discovered it was a peculiar aptitude born of her hours of study rather than an innate skill which came with magical ability. "All the more reason to maybe give me a primer before you leave?"

Athim could practically feel his lazy shrug. "Sometimes these things just slip our minds in a haze of alcohol."

She chuckled. "You are forgiven on account of how much alcohol was flying around the last few days."

"I'm eternally grateful."

"How has the riding been?"

"It is continuing. We'll be stopping at full dark. The scouts want to make good time, particularly through the mountains. And it's been miserable, obviously. I ache all over and have been sober for hours. Varric has proved a welcome distraction as expected."

"Well, that's good at least."

"How has Skyhold been without me? Are you climbing the walls yet?"

"Not yet. I’ve been keeping busy."

"More diplomatic endeavors?" He sounded intrigued.

"In Part. With Josephine gone it will fall to me to handle most of that mess."

He barked out a laugh."I always imagine every letter you write just says 'I do what I want and if you get in my way I'll set you on fire'" He continued laughing. "Dear Mr. Important. Eat dirt."

"Excuse me. I can be diplomatic when I need to be." Athim retorted defensively.

"Oh yes, like when you diplomatically walked into Redcliff and announced to Alexius' face that you knew he planned to murder you inciting a bout of reality sundering magic."

Athim growled. "I'm about to diplomatically sunder your reality."

Dorian laughed so hard he ended up choking and coughing while Athim rolled her eyes. "Oh, my dear. I'm so glad we can still have these little talks. I only wish I had wine to enjoy in tandem with your marvelous wit."

"I’m surprised you’re not drinking as you ride if I’m honest.”

“I considered it, but I decided it will be more special if I save it for rest periods. What about you? Have you got a full bottle in my honor?”

“Not tonight. Actually, I’m considering turning in early. The last few days have been exhausting.”

“That sounds absolutely delightful. I fear sleep will be in short supply until we reach the sea.”

“And on it most likely.” She laughed

“I’m trying to ignore that part of the journey for now. If I don’t acknowledge it, it can’t hurt me.” He chuckled. “Anyway. You get some sleep.”

“Are you sure? We can talk longer if you like.”

“I am. Varric has been making mocking faces at me for the past five minutes and I can’t quite teach him a lesson properly while speaking to you.”

Athim laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

“Have a good night, Athy.”

“You too.”

Athim let the magic in the stone dissipate and the glow faded. She was smiling softly as she let it slip from her fingers. By the time the stone hit her chest however the smile had dissipated. In its place was a look of resigned determination, not unlike the look she had worn for most of her time as Inquisitor.


	13. You're like a Mirror, Reflecting Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not your eyes  
> It's not what you say  
> It's not your laughter that gives you away  
> You're just lonely  
> You've been lonely, too long  
> All your actin'  
> Your thin disguise  
> All your perfectly delivered lies  
> They don't fool me  
> You've been lonely, too long  
> Let me in the wall, you've built around  
> And we can light a match and burn it down  
> Let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flame  
> In front of us  
> Dust to...  
> -Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars

_The pounding sound was coming from the courtyard. Athim was sitting in the Herald with a full glass of wine in front of her, but the sound from outside was proving very distracting. She needed to go see what was causing it._

_The courtyard was filled with people in ball gowns, frock coats, and Orlesian masks. Some of them were people Athim knew, she recognized them even behind the costumes, but others she felt sure were strangers. Everyone she passed raised a glass to her._

_Then Dorian was there. He handed her a flute of champagne with a smile. "Everyone is so thrilled to be here, let's not keep them waiting." He took her arm and led her down the stairs._

_"Waiting for what? Who are all of these people?" Athim at once felt overwhelmed and bewildered._

_"Your admires, Athy, and they're waiting for your speech of course!"_

_Her eyes widened. "My speech?"_

_"Of course! Your farewell speech!" The voice came from Josephine who had appeared at Athim's other elbow._

_"Where am I going?" Her voice sounded bewildered, echoing in her own ears too loudly._

_"We don't know, you silly goose! That's why we're all so eager to hear your speech." Dorian shook her gently as he spoke then he and Josephine both laughed._

_The banging was louder now and Athim was finally able to identify its source: the Chargers were busy with hammers, building something. There were so many of them that it was impossible to see past them to the project itself. Athim was about to ask what it was when someone suddenly scooped her up off the ground. She gave a little cry of alarm which prompted a deep chuckle from the man holding her, a sound she recognized well. Thom was bridal carrying her towards the chargers and their flurry of activity._

_She relaxed slightly and spun her head to look up at him. "Thom, what are they building?"_

_He didn't answer, only chuckled again. He moved through the merc band and deposited her on her feet on top of the new construction, then gave her a wink. "You'll do great," he wore a warm smile and sad eyes. "You always do."_

_Athim smiled uncomfortably then glanced down at the wooden platform beneath her feet: it was about three by five feet and three feet high. She looked out over the sizable crowd and saw nothing but expectant eyes. Hundreds of people waiting on her words._

_But she had no idea what she was supposed to be saying._

_She looked for Dorian in the crowd, hoping for some kind of assistance._

_"Where are you going, Athim?" A voice she didn't recognize called out from the crowd._

_"What are you going to do?" She couldn't identify the speakers, the voices were coming from all over._

_"Why are you leaving us?" This voice sounded angry and suddenly Athim felt anxiety clamp a tight hand around her throat._

_"Don't any of us matter to you?" She felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, the emotion of the dream threatening to overwhelm her._

_"This is a dream, Athim." She whispered to herself. "It's your dream. You can control it."_

_She closed her eyes and took a breath focusing on her own consciousness. As she pulled herself apart from the dream she felt_ something _; a presence familiar and separate from her. Her eyes snapped open and she searched the thronging courtyard, looking for the presence._

_She found it high on a rampart above the courtyard: a cloaked figure who appeared to be watching the activity below. She gasped, her jaw dropping open as her heart leapt into her throat. The figure turned and disappeared from sight almost as soon as she discovered it._

_"No!" Athim screamed, the sound echoing on and on sounding like hundreds of voices. With a force of will, she banished the dream. The courtyard, the crowd, all of Skyhold blinking out of existence and leaving her standing in the undisguised Fade._

_"Solas!" She ran in the direction she had seen him, senses seeking out that feeling of other, eyes straining for any glimpse of the cloaked figure._

_But he was gone._

She woke gasping, sitting bolt upright in her bed. Anger, frustration, and confusion swirling around in her mind. She pushed herself out of bed and paced the room, trying to calm her furiously beating heart.

Athim recognized that her mind and the Fade could be playing tricks on her. The figure could have been another part of the dream. But she also knew what it felt like to have someone else's consciousness in her mind; what it felt like for _him_ to be in her dreams.

She was sure it had been him.

A thousand questions ran through her head, possible answers only brought in more questions, all of them boiling down to a single word: Why?

The stone secured around her neck illuminated and began pulsing. Athim paused in her pacing and took a breath. That would be Dorian. She took the crystal in her hand and let a breath of magic flow into it.

"Good morning, my dearest!" He sounded incredibly chipper despite the early hour. "I do hope I didn't wake you."

"Hello, Dori." Her voice was tight with subdued emotion. "No, you didn't wake me."

"Well, you don't sound very pleased with the world this morning. Did you end up having that bottle in my honor after all?"

"No, I-" she took a breath. "I had a dream and _he_ was in it, Dori."

"Athy dear, you're always dreaming about him. Why was this one so-"

"No." She cut him off more sharply than she'd intended. "I didn't dream _about_ him. He was _in_ my dream. Actually him. Not some fabrication of my mind."

Dorian was silent for a moment. "Why don't you start at the beginning? Tell me about the dream."

Athim's hands were shaking. She took another deep breath to steady herself. "I was here, at Skyhold, and there were hundreds of people in the courtyard all dressed up for a party. I knew some of them but a lot of them were strangers. You and Josie said it was my goodbye party and that I was supposed to be giving a speech to tell everyone where I was going, only I didn't know myself."

"That is already a lot to unpack my dear."

"Do you want to hear about my dream or not?"

"Sorry, sorry. Continue."

"Then I was up in front of everyone and people started yelling at me. They were angry about me leaving, saying I didn't care about them. I started to get overwhelmed. Then I felt a presence that wasn't a part of me in the dream. I looked for it and saw him up high above the courtyard watching me. But as soon as I noticed him he was gone."

Dorian didn't respond and the empty air stretched out. Then she heard him take a breath. "And you're sure, absolutely sure that it was him?"

"Who else would slip into my dreams like that Dori?" Athim walked into the balcony as she spoke, the cool wind coming off the mountains calming her temper. "It could only be him."

"I agree with that. If someone truly was injecting themselves into your mind it had to be him. Considering who— what he is I don't doubt he would have the ability."

"You don't believe I would know the difference between him _being_ there and my own dream?"

"Well let's be honest, Athy, how many people have had that experience to know for certain?"

Athim let her stunned silence hang in the air for a moment. "I have, Dori. I know what it feels like because he'd done it before."

It was then Dorian's turn to respond with stunned silence. "Before you knew what he was?"

"Of course before."

"And you didn't suspect anything was amiss? Didn't know he was… different?"

She shrugged, her hands gesturing vaguely as she spoke. "How could I? How could any of us have known?"

"I knew."

Cole's voice caught Athim by surprise and she spun sharply to where he stood, leaning his elbows on the railing.

"Who was that?" Dorian asked bewilderedly.

"Cole." Athim's response was half to Dorian and half to the spirit himself.

"Cole? What's he doing there?"

“Dori, I’m going to have to go. We’ll talk later.”

“Alright, but you better have a good explanation for all this!”

"What do you mean Cole?" Athim dropped the messaging crystal back to her chest and its light went out, connection lost.

"I knew." He shrugged. "His pain called back to who he was, what he was."

"From the very beginning?" Athim's mouth had gone dry.

"No," he wandered away from her, hand trailing along the balcony railing. "It came in pieces. Pictures and bits of feeling that were him but not him at the same time." He looked out over the mountains. "I asked him about them. He didn't like talking about back then, about the before, but he did anyway. Needed to talk to someone." He looked back at Athim, eyes half-hidden by the brim of his hat. "He talked about a lot of things, felt a lot of things, asked me not to let them go."

"And so you didn't." That explained why Cole had never let anything slip out, never spoken even indirectly about Solas' identity. Spirits were typically simple, indirect but literal. Cole wasn't a traditional spirit, he was unique among his kind, but some of the same generalities applied to him. Even when not bound, most friendly spirits would follow direct instructions if they aligned with their nature. 

Shaking off the train of thought before she could get lost in it, Athim looked back at Cole to find him gazing intently at her in a way that unnerved her. It was like he was waiting, expecting her to say something. She ran back over his words in her head, fearing she'd missed an inquiry of some kind, and stumbled over something unsought.

"You said he talked about lots of things. Things other than being Fen'Harel?" He nodded without a word, the severity of his gaze not diminishing. She went on. "And he asked you not to tell those things as well?" He nodded again. She bit her lip and looked out over the railing, ideas rattling around the inside of her skull. His plans, associates, hiding places. Things she was desperate to know could be locked up inside of Cole. Why would he tell her this? She looked back towards him and found he had not moved, eyes still locked on her with a fervor that made her suddenly self-conscious. _Self-conscious._ She took a short breath.

"Things about me, Cole?" He nodded, his expression relaxing slightly, the movement telling her she's landed where he had been leading her to. She found her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Why would he want you to keep things about me from everyone?"

"Not everyone," his eyes moved away from her to focus on the ground.

"...From me?" She breathed the question and he nodded, not looking at her. She suddenly felt dizzy and she didn't know why, the world seeming to turn in on itself. What Cole was saying didn't make sense, didn't fit with the narrative as Athim knew it. "About him and I? Our… relationship?" He shrugged in a way that explicitly said both yes and no. "But you still can't tell me what they were, the things he said."

"I promised," he said, fervently shaking his head.

"Cole. Why are you telling me this?" By telling her the secrets existed he wasn't breaking his promise, wasn't revealing them, but knowing they existed without knowing what they were would drive her mad. Cole knew that.

"You should know." His voice was as firm as she'd ever heard it. "It's pieces of who you are and you can never be who you are without them." He seemed flustered, frustrated. "I didn't know when I promised." He looked her in the eyes again, that intensity back. "My purpose is to heal the hurts, even the hurts you don't know are there. I can't tell you, but it's not telling if I help you find them."

"Is this why you came back?" He nodded. She looked down at her metal arm. "You said before that you'd be back once the locks broke. They needed to break for me to find these things?"

"Some of them are in your head, you just don't know it. But you wouldn't go in, not for so long." He looked so sad when he spoke that it sent a pang of guilt through her.

"Then we'll do it." She stated resolutely. "What do you mean they're in my head?"

His face brightened. "Things you saw. Things he said. Things he did. Then they didn't mean anything, but put together they're the pieces of the whole."

"Memories. You're talking about memories." 

He nodded. "I can help you find them."

Athim's expression steeled and she nodded firmly. "How do we start?" 

He walked away from her into the tower and she followed. "Somewhere safe, quiet, private. A place to be you." Athim thought about suitable locations. Her mind went to the rotunda first, but it was not safe, quiet, or private. Somewhere outside Skyhold didn't feel right. The keep was her home and where she felt most like herself. Her eyes fell on the side room and her thoughts went to what was inside of it. 

Cole followed her thinking with his eyes. "Yes, that would work." They went together, Cole following her through the small entry and behind the curtain. She always found it hard to take her eyes off the Eluvian for a few moments once she entered the space and Cole did not rush her as she took it all in, then she placed her attention back on him. "You'll want to sit. Comfortable."

"Like for meditation or consciously visiting the Fade," she offered. 

He seemed to pause at that, just for a beat, then he nodded. "Yes," she started to sit down facing the mirror, "No, here," he moved her so she ended up sitting cross-legged directly in front of the reflective glass looking at her own face. "Mirrors are good for lots of things." He stood behind her and she looked at him in the mirror. Cole's reflection seemed less muddied than her own in the magical glass, his features almost crisper than they appeared in person.

"What now?"

"Now breathe. Think inside. Forget out here, you don't need out here." With those vague instructions, he seemed to settle back to watch her. 

Athim took a breath and closed her eyes. She focused on her breathing for several heartbeats to steady herself; then turned her focus into her own mind, the way she had when she activated the arm. She visualized removing her consciousness from her physical body and felt the sensation and weight of it fading away. She imagined her mind as a void, clear of clutter or excess. Then she opened her eyes and was there. The space she found herself in wasn't dark but blank, open, and vast. It felt comfortable.

"You did it."

She turned to look at him, surprised by his seemingly physical presence in her mind. "Should it have been that easy?" She asked, looking at herself. She looked, from her perspective at least, exactly the same as she did in reality.

"You used to spend a lot of time inside, back in the aravels. Too loud with the hunters, need quiet and peace. You remember how." 

"When I went inside to break the locks," she said, absently adopting his vocabulary. "It wasn't like this." 

Cole nodded. "Uncontrolled. Rush of memory, emotion, sights, and sounds. All pressing the locks and wanting out. Flooding out, over, around. Overwhelming. Now the flood is subsided, just a river calm enough to walk in."

"Where do we start? When we first met?" As she spoke the void changed, color rushing in to fill every pocket. Blood splattered white snow on the ground, Fade green Breach wide and rolling high in the Sky, an open rift surrounded by demons. Frozen in place, Athim saw Cassandra, blade drawn and shield high, rushing in to meet the enemy. Varric with Bianca, caught just as he pulled the trigger, face serious, body tense and coiled to accept the weapon's recoil. And there _he_ was, staff midway through a swing, facing an already frosted shade, his eyes hard. Athim let out a soft gasp. It was exactly as she remembered, every detail as real as it had been on the day.

"It is how you remember. That's what it is." 

She turned to look at Cole and was startled to find an image of herself, staff drawn, eyes wide with shock and fear, vallaslin stark on her pale skin. Athim walked around the memory of herself, noticing how many inscrutable details marked the passage of time. At the time she had lacked the look of exhaustion, the pinched look in her eyes, the hard set of her mouth. "I didn't realize I would be able to observe myself like this. I assumed I'd be reliving them as they were originally experienced."

"You could. She's still you. But you're not her anymore so you can see it from the outside too." She shook her head in agreement. The girl who awoke in Haven's dungeon all those years ago felt far removed from who Athim had become. She tried to remember how she had felt at that moment and instantly the feelings rushed in. Fear of everything: the hole in the sky, the demons pouring from the Rift, more than Athim had seen in her entire life all at once, the woman with the sword and cold eyes who walked like a Templar without feeling like one, the soldiers who looked at her with hatred both for what she was and what they thought she had done. Under the fear was a tempered feeling of wonder, a fascination for the unexpected beauty of the Breach, and the magic at the root of it. Athim began to slip into the emotion, to lose control of her place in the memory, until Cole put a hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe. Pictures in a book. Not you, not anymore." 

She took a breath and separated herself from the old emotions and tossed him a smile. "This is incredible," she walked around the frozen moment. It reminded her of the Still Ruins in the Western Approach and held the same charged beauty.

"You have a very good memory."

She approached the image of Solas and circled him, examining the concentrated expression of his focus and the fixed grace of his casting. "This is the first time I saw him."

"Yes. I think you've gone too far back…" Cole was moving through the figures, examining them with a scrutiny similar to Athim's. "He didn't know you. Didn't know anything about it."

"About what?" He shrugged without looking at her. "Ah. About _it_." 'It' was obviously something Cole could not address directly. "Farther then."

Before the words had left her mouth the scene around them began to blur and rearrange itself into the village of Haven, outside of the alchemist's shop. She and Solas stood in the snow, light flakes frozen in the air around them. Her lips parted, about to speak, his eyes cautious in the way they met hers. The first time they spoke after she regained consciousness, after her first attempt to close the rift at the temple. She looked at Cole.

"Could be something here…" he muttered vaguely.

"Here in time, or here in this location? Solas and I spoke a number of times over several months here." Cole considered for a moment, studying her and the memory.

"Both."

She looked back at the memory and sighed. "All of it then. Again." With less than a thought, life was brought to the tableau. The snow resumed its fall, and Athim's ears were filled with the sounds of the village: the hammer of the smith, people chatting, she could even hear the muffled sound of Maryden singing in the tavern. It was so real and so clear, for a moment, she was able to forget everything that happened later as she watched Solas and her speak together in the gently falling snow. She smiled, settling herself into a comfortable position on the ground, and listened as they got to know each other all over again. As she did she kept one eye on Cole, who had seated himself next to her, watching for any sign of him noticing anything significant in the conversation that she didn't pick up on.

It didn't take long.

_"I'd be interested in hearing your opinions on elven culture."_

_"I would think you'd be more interested in sharing_ your _opinions on elven culture. You are Dalish are you not?" The scorn in his voice was tactile, scratching across her face. The intensity of his contempt caught her off guard. Despite how incongruous she typically felt among her people she found indignation rising in her at his seemingly unfounded disdain._

_"My people come from the elves who refused to surrender when humans broke their treaty and destroyed the Dales."_

_"Your Keeper was not wrong about that at least. We must mark the occasion of the Dalish remembering something correctly. Perhaps we should plant a tree." He spat the words, the level of vitriol in them such she would not have thought him capable of._

_"You insult my people."_

_"They insult themselves. Remember, I have walked the memories of the Fade. I have seen the history the Dalish imitate." She opened her mouth, a rebuke ready on her tongue but stopped herself. She took a breath and let it out gently, releasing the unsought anger. He was right. For all their posturing, much was unknown to the Dalish, lost to time and destruction. She could understand how frustrating that must be to someone who had the knowledge; the Dalish's markedly stubborn temperament regarding their history no doubt did not help soften Solas' feelings towards them._

Cole sat up a little straighter, eyes more focused than they had been a moment before. Athim, seeing this out of the corner of her eye did the same, watching Solas and his expression more closely.

_"Ir abelas, Hahren. If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would make that right."_

_The venom in Solas' eyes slipped away, replaced by surprise, but only for a moment; recovering quickly his face slipped back into a detached neutral. The expression, she realized, being his usual mask. That he had let it slip said multitudes about the depth of malevolence he felt towards her people. She nodded respectfully. "What course would you set for them that is better than what they know now?"_

_He sighed, and there was a sense of resignation in the sound, but she felt she could taste the edge of a smile creeping at one corner of his mouth. "You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting what the Dalish could never truly accomplish. Ir abelas… da'len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask."_

She hadn't known Solas well enough at the time to find the pause in his speech noteworthy, but now it stuck out to her. He could not have been unsure of the word, his Elvish was far more exceptional than her own.

"Little one. Little child. Young and vibrant but not foolish and rash. More than I thought."

"More than he thought." She repeated, watching as their dialog became more natural and comfortable. "He expected me to be more… Dalish. To look down on his bare face, call him flat-ear, to take his knowledge of the people as an insult when it wasn't what I was taught."

"Your clan wasn't like that,"

She shook her head. "No, but we were an exception. The Dalish he had encountered prior to myself had set the standard for my people in his mind. I don't blame him, the worst of any group are often the loudest." She watched Solas' body language as he spoke to her, noticing for the first time how relaxed it seemed compared to the beginning of their conversation.

"Can I back it u-" she didn't even finish the words, the memory snapped back to the moment she wanted to watch again.

_"Ir abelas, Hahren. If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would make that right. What course would you set for them that is better than what they know now?"_

_"You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting what the Dalish could never truly accomplish. Ir abelas… da'len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask."_

She tilted her head to the side, looking slightly puzzled. Cole copied her, his confusion directed at her own.

"I expected that my apology would have been the trigger for him relaxing around me, but it wasn't…" the memory reversed again.

_"Ir abelas… da'len."_

Watching him another memory tickled the back of her mind. While the images before them didn't change, voices from another memory flowed over the scene in Haven as she thought back on them.

_"We aren't even people to you?'_

_"Not at first. You showed me I was wrong… again."_

Athim felt a warm smile growing on her face as she observed the continuing conversation. "I wonder if he knew how much his guard dropped after that one word." She looked at Cole, "that was when he started to see me as different wasn't it? I was just some Dalish elf who happened to bear his mark until then. I started to be real." He nodded.

"You always surprised him, from the very beginning."

Athim pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, arms wrapped around herself. The memories shifted over themselves, as one conversation ended the light and surroundings changed and the next conversation began. Months passed and seasons changed. As the time went on she could see herself falling in love with him, little by little: She developed a smile that was part embarrassment and part adoration that was only his, curling one corner of her lips and casting color across her cheeks; each time they spoke she seemed to be standing closer to him, seeking closeness with him physically. Watching their interactions unfold it was obvious that her feelings for him had grown, although at the time she had barely been aware of it herself. She looked for signs in him that he had noticed it, but instead, she saw slight hints of his own increasing affection for her: a softness and warmth that came to his eyes when she approached or the way he leaned his head near hers as they spoke as though he was sharing private information. At last, after an indeterminate amount of time and many conversations, the images faded leaving Athim and Cole sitting in the blank void.

"For as smart as we thought we were, we couldn't see what was right in front of us."

"You didn't mean for it to happen." He agreed, "by the time you noticed it was already done."

Athim glanced to the spirit at her side. "Cole, I still don't understand what you're trying to tell me." She admitted.

He nodded, not looking at her. "I know. Pieces of a puzzle. Start with the corners, the beginning, build in to see the whole picture." 

The void filled with light again, slowly swirling and shifting with her thoughts before beginning to solidify into colors and shapes. Athim got to her feet and Cole followed suit. "The beginning…" she breathed the words, watching with wide eyes as the colors settled into a very familiar room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits made to the chapter's end - 9/27/2020


	14. If We Don't Bend Then This Might Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping you weren't heaven sent  
> 'Cause only hell knows where you've been  
> Your built composure's wearing thin  
> And all your walls are caving in  
> Before you shut this down  
> I just wanna lift you up  
> I'll take all this love I found  
> And I hope that it's enough  
> I saw you, yeah you, you're breaking down  
> I hope you, yeah you, you come around  
> Now don't you shut this down, oh no, don't you give this up  
> I took all this love I found and I hope that it's enough  
> Is it enough?  
> -Only Love by PVRIS

Skyhold's rotunda materialized around them, walls stark and blank which marked the memory as being from when they had first arrived at the keep. Athim, in the memory, was walking up to Solas, greeting him with a smile and a raised hand. The smile he gave her in return was colored with something she hadn't noticed at the time but now recognized as curiosity.

_ "Inquisitor. What can I do for you?" _

_ "Just Athim, please."  _

_ "My apologies, Athim. It is a bad habit I find myself developing. I will endeavor to correct it." _

_ "I appreciate it, Solas. I'd like to think that I'm not just 'The Inquisitor' to you." _

_ "Of course. What can I do for you?" _

_ "Well, the two of us have spoken a lot about me and the Inquisition, but I'm interested in what you told me about yourself and your studies. If you have time, I'd like to hear more." _

_ "You continue to surprise me." His smile brightened and she could not help but return it. "All right, let us talk… preferably somewhere more interesting than this." _

"I didn't understand how I had surprised him," as she spoke, the memory around them blurred and went fuzzy. "I didn't realize what I had done. That it was even possible to do what I did." The blurriness cleared and they were back in Haven, standing in front of the Chantry watching as Solas and Athim walked up the steps from the gates together.

_ "Why here?" _

_ "Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you." _

_ "We talked about that already." _

"But it wasn't Haven." Cole pointed out.

Athim nodded. "It was the Fade. I had sought him out in my dreams, passing into his or pulling him into mine without knowing it. So he constructed all of Haven with his mind, just for this conversation. Just for me. It took me some time to realize it; he was very good at building dreams." Her eyes tracked the two of them as they walked through the snow to the Chantry and followed them in, Cole on her heels. There was a comfortable silence between the memory of her and Solas which would become an earmark of their relationship; neither of them saw the need to make conversation merely to fill silence. Solas led her through the Chantry, down the steep dark stairs, and into the dungeon where she had once been a manacled prisoner.

_ She had not visited the space since escaping it. Looking at the empty dark room Athim was filled with emotions she had difficulty putting names to. This was where her life had begun, truly, awoken from death to new purpose. _

_ "I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor."  _

_ She looked at him and found his eyes on the room as hers had been. She found herself smiling, as she often did when given the opportunity to observe him surreptitiously. "How long can it take to look at a mark on my hand?"  _

_ He flicked his eyes to her and seeing her smile he returned it with one of his own, one corner of his mouth pulling up. "A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the Veil?" He raised one eyebrow. "Longer than you might think." His eyes returned to the stone chamber and the smile slid away as thoughts or memories passed through his eyes. "I ran every test I could imagine- searched the Fade, yet found nothing." The frustration he had felt was evident in his voice, along with an undercurrent of helplessness, foreign on his usually sure tongue. "Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results." _

_ "Cassandra's like that with everyone." She smirked and he let out a small bark of laughter. _

_ "Ha. Yes." _

Athim stepped aside as he turned and headed back up the stairs. 

As they followed behind the shades Cole looked at her. "Cassandra threatened to have you executed?"

She shrugged. "I think her exact words were 'give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now.' It was a long time ago, when we first met. Well the first time I met her, I was unconscious before that."

"You aren't mad about it," 

Athim laughed and shook her head. "No, I wasn't then either. Just confused. Once I knew what was happening, the Breach and everything, I understood her anger." 

Cole was silent for a moment, considering this. "I'm glad she didn't."

"So am I."

_ The brilliant light of the sun and the Breach reflecting off the white snow was dazzling after the dim interior as they emerged from the Chantry. She blinked rapidly to adjust her vision. _

_ "You were never going to wake up. How  _ could _ you? A mortal sent physically through the Fade." He stopped and turned to her. "I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach." He spread his hands and shook his head in defeat. "Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra… or she in me. I was ready to flee." He dropped his arms and half turned away from her. _

_ "The Breach threatened the whole world." She cocked her head to one side. She was touched by his openness. They had discussed in depth her emotions regarding the events following the Conclave, she had needed someone to talk to and he had been kind enough to be a magically minded ear, but he had rarely touched on his own feelings on the matter. "Where did you plan to go?" _

_ He looked sidelong at her without turning his head. "Someplace far away, where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me." He laughed, shaking his head before looking at her fully and slightly raising one eyebrow in a way that made butterflies erupt in her stomach. "I never said it was a  _ good _ plan." Turning away from her to gaze at the Breach, he continued. "I told myself: One more attempt to seal the rifts. I tried, and failed." He seemed to deflate slightly. "No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…"  _

There was a flash and the Fade formed memory overtook the whole. Solas holding her wrist, hand high, voltaic green magic streaming out from the Anchor to the open Fade rift, forcing the edges of the fissure closed with a burst of explosive energy. The nested memories made Athim's head spin, dizziness washing over her. Cole, seeing this, offered a hand so she could steady herself but she waved him off as the sensation passed quickly.

_ Solas turned to her as the vision ended. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture. And right then I felt the whole world change."  _

_ Those words, and his eyes so focused on her filled with reverence, wiped everything else from her mind. "Felt the whole world change?" Her voice came out softer than she had intended and she felt a blush pass over the tops of her cheeks. _

_ "A figure of speech." _

_ "I'm aware of the metaphor." She stepped up beside him. "I'm more interested in 'felt'."  _

_ He met her eyes, the look of adoration unfaded, a sheepish smile teasing the corners of his lips. _

_ "You change… everything." _

_ Gazing into his eyes the depth of her feelings for the man abruptly threatened to overwhelm her. Her mind swam and she wondered how she couldn't see, until that moment, how deeply she loved him. It had been there, beneath the surface for so long: a trickle of water wearing down stone until it became a river raging through a vast ravine. His bashful smile bloomed and he turned quickly away from her back towards the Breach. She studied his eyes, distant and focused at the same time, then let her gaze travel down his face: the sculpt of his nose, the fullness and color of his cheeks, the hard yet soft line of his lips. She found herself raising her hand toward those features and, before she could even consider what she was doing, her fingers touched his chin, turning his head to face hers and she stepped forward pressing her lips to his.  _

_ His lips felt as soft as they looked and she closed her eyes, leaning into him slightly, fingertips still resting gently on the side of his face. Her other hand had ended up resting softly against his shoulder which she noticed felt tense. With that acknowledgment, she came to her senses and realized what she had just done. She pulled away from him, shocked at her lack of control; in his face she saw the same shock and started to turn away from him, embarrassment beginning to flood her face.  _

_ Before she could follow through on the action, however, he took hold of her shoulder and pulled her back, his lips finding hers again. The intensity of his kiss surprised her, but that surprise was quickly forgotten in the moment as she melted against him, arms circling his waist as one of his hands found the back of her neck and the hand on her shoulder slid along her back to pull her closer to him.  _

_ The kiss seemed to go on for millennia and yet somehow not long enough as he pulled back slightly to look down at her face. She felt as though she'd forgotten how to breathe and the unreadable emotion in his eyes as he looked at her did nothing to calm her pounding heart. He seemed to be considering something as he studied her face, head shaking gently, then he kissed her again, consuming her every thought. His tongue caressed hers and she rose onto the balls of her feet to meet him with a matching level of ferocity. Then he unexpectedly pulled back, stepping away from her. _

_ "We shouldn't. It isn't right. Not even here." _

_ She felt dazed. Lightheaded from the kiss. "What do you mean "even here"?" _

_ He raised his eyebrows at her, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. "Where did you think we were?" Eyes widening, she looked around her at the familiar surroundings; a place that no longer existed. The reality hit her like a brick. _

_ "...this isn't real…" It was a dream, she was in the Fade. Until confronted with the contradiction of the truth her mind had not questioned the existence of their surroundings. Now she was immeasurably confused. She felt certain that Solas was not an invention of her mind, that the kiss, or rather kisses, had been real, not imagined. She looked to him for some kind of clarification and found him smiling at her. _

_ "That's a matter of debate… probably best discussed after you  _ wake up _." _

In an instant, the world around them changed from snowy Haven to Athim's bed-chamber, the version of her from back then gasping violently awake in bed.

"I went to see him right away," Athim said and the images around them seemed to skip ahead. It was the rotunda now, half of the walls covered in beautiful frescos. She and Cole watched as her memory hurried into the room, then stopped and took a breath to compose herself before approaching Solas, who turned at the sound of her footsteps and smiled enigmatically at her.

_ "Sleep well?" The almost mischievous smile on his lips confirmed what she already knew. It has been him, somehow he had been in her dream.  _

_ She gaped at him. "That was… incredible. I've never done anything like that before… on a number of levels."  _

_ He gave a short chuckle, then quickly recovered his composure. 'I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered, and I should not have encouraged it."  _

_ She furrowed her brow, his words taking the air from her lungs. "Solas. I thought you were interested. If I misread you I— I apologize." _

_ "No. You have no need to apologize I—" he sighed. "It has been a long time, and things have always been… easier, for me in the Fade." He looked down and shook his head gently. "I am not certain this is the best idea." He looked up again, eyes meeting hers. "It… could lead to trouble." _

_ The tight feeling in her heart loosened. "I’m willing to take that chance, if you are." _

_ "I….. maybe, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations."  _

_ His uncertainty felt so unlike him, so average. She found herself feeling almost proud that she could throw him off balance so far and a slight smile curled her mouth which he diffidently returned. "Take all the time you need." _

_ He nodded his appreciation. "Thank you. I am not often thrown off by things that happen in dreams. But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking." _

_ “I would as well. I— I’d like to understand what just happened better. That was actually you, in my dream, not something that looked like you. I didn't know that was possible. How did you do that?" _

_ "Me?" He raised an eyebrow. "It was you who sought me out in the Fade." _

_ She blinked. "What? But I— I didn't, I don't…"  _

_ "I take it this is new to you." She nodded dumbly and he chuckled. "I suspect that Skyhold being the initial setting of your dream aided in convincing you that you had already awoken." _

_ "I do remember retiring to my chambers after exploring the castle… but—" _

_ "But not reawakening I would assume." She thought about it. He was right. She remembered lying down to sleep, then she was in the rotunda speaking with him, there was nothing in between. _

_ "Yes, I think you're right. But how did I "seek you out"? I didn't intend to, I didn't even know I could." _

_ He shrugged. "Perhaps a subconscious desire to speak with me?" _

_ She considered. "Or a conscious one. I had planned to speak with you after resting." _

_ "That is likely the case then." He gave a curt nod. _

_ "But that doesn't answer my question," she said. "How? I've never done anything like that before."  _

_ He considered for a moment. _

Beside her, Athim felt Cole tense. She looked at him inquiringly but his focus was set on Solas, his expression unreadable. She let her eyes follow his and focused on Solas herself.

_ "You did not interact with many other mages before the Inquisition, is that correct?" _

_ She nodded. "Only Deshanna," _

_ "Your Keeper." _

_ "Yes. And Sa'renan I suppose." He gave her an inquiring look. "Deshanna was the only mage I knew for most of my life. Sa'renan came into her magic when I was nineteen. She was seven. I was already First to the Keeper by then. I helped train the child to harness her magic. She was named Second before I left for the conclave." Since she had left the Clan permanently Sa'renan would now be the First, she realized. _

_ "Perhaps it is the case that this is an ability you have always possessed, but never became aware of due to your circumstances. It's certainly not an ability all mages possess and if your Keeper did not she may have been unaware of the possibility. How could she teach you what she did not know?" He offered.  _

_ She nodded slowly, eyes on the floor, unfocused. That made sense, the 'how' itself still seemed elusive, however. _

_ "You are lucky Athim." She looked up and found him smiling, a smug smile that tended to indicate he was about to demonstrate his superior knowledge. "It is often difficult to locate a teacher in such an esoteric skill."  _

_ She pulled her brows down in confusion, then they shot back up as she understood his meaning. "You can teach me?" He chuckled at her exuberance and nodded, promoting a delighted, beaming smile to spread across her face. "Ma serannas, ma Ghilan." She gave him a half bow that was part mocking and part completely earnest.  _

_ He laughed again. "Do not thank me yet Da'len. This will be more involved than your elvish lessons. You may find I am not the kindest teacher." _

_ "I will still learn." She sounded resolute and he nodded. _

_ "I expect you will." _

Athim looked again at Cole as the conversation continued. He no longer seemed hyperfocused on the memory and Athim wondered what she had missed as there had clearly been something there to draw the spirit's attention.

"Pieces of the whole, obscured. Can't see where they fit until you put them together." He offered as clarification. She nodded. No doubt once she had a better idea of what she was looking for it would become more apparent. Athim looked back at the memory and discovered it had gone blurry, wavering at the edges, voices muffled and colors dull.

"Cole, what's happening?"

"Your body." Her eyes snapped back to him at the distress in his voice. "You need it, can't stay inside forever. You have to go back."

"I don—" he cut her off, putting a hand on her chest, eyes serious.

"Go back." 

She did not argue. Closing her eyes, Athim focused on her physical body: visualized climbing back into it like a suit of armor. It felt heavy and clumsy compared to her consciousness alone. She opened her eyes and promptly collapsed to her side. Her head was pounding, stomach-churning, and in the eluvian's glass she could see she was deathly pale. She let out a gasp of pain and suddenly Cole was there, his cool hands on her feverish skin.

"Time isn't time inside," he said gently, helping her sit back up. She opened her mouth to speak and only a rasp came out, followed by several harsh coughs. "You need water." Carefully, as if he feared she would break, he helped Athim stand and led her out of the side room to rest on her bed. As they did so Athim understood his words and her physical state, for outside of the windows and balconies of her chambers she could see the colors of dusk, sunset painting the sky in vibrant hues of purple and gold. Lying on her bed, looking at the sky, Athim estimated that roughly ten hours had passed as she sat before the Eluvian. She tried to remember the last time she'd eaten.

"Drink." A cup emerged into her field of vision and, one hand under her head, Cole helped her sip the cool water. He readjusted her pillows and propped her up, placing the cup in her hands. "Don't move." Then he was gone. Athim looked at the cup in her hands and tried to raise it to her lips. Her right hand was shaking so hard that it threatened to spill over, the metal arm however seemed unaffected. She carefully transferred the cup to that hand and was able to raise its rim to her mouth and take a sip.

”Good." Cole was back, returning as suddenly and silently as he had vanished. "You need food." He pressed a warm roll into her empty hand.

"Will that always happen?" She took another drink. Her voice sounded raspy, but she could speak. "How do I keep from losing track of my body when I have to forget it to go inside?"

"It should get easier. Being in both places is hard, but you can do it. I'll help." She smiled up at him then bit into the roll. It tasted incredible, still warm from the oven, crusty on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside. In a moment it was gone and Cole produced another which she devoured similarly.

Feeling more like herself, Athim took another drink of water then set her cup aside.

"You should eat more," Cole produced an apple which Athim gladly took.

"Could you bring me my journal from the desk?" She took a bite of the apple and noted it was the sweetest, juiciest specimen she had ever enjoyed. Before she had finished her bite Cole was placing the journal on her lap, quill and ink held in his other hand.

Athim pulled open the journal then took the offered quill in her right hand. In a slightly shaky version of her spidery hand, she began to write.

"What are you writing now?" Cole was abruptly sitting on her opposite side on the bed.

"The things I saw." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Keeping track of the pieces so I can put them back together later."

"That's good." He looked up towards the balcony. "I have to go now. But I'll come back. Don't go back inside without me. Not yet." 

"I won't. I promise." She looked up from her writing to find the room empty. She shrugged to herself then continued writing, munching on the apple as she dutifully recorded as much as she could recollect. She focused on the moments which struck her or seemed to strike Cole. These moments felt like stars, but she didn't have enough to see the constellation.

There was something. A niggling at the back of her brain. She felt like she was missing something obvious and it was enormously frustrating.

With a sigh, she put up her quill and carefully set the book down beside the bed. Reaching to the Fade for power, she pulled a gust of wind through the room, extinguishing all the candles in one swoop. Then she pulled the blankets up over her and closed her eyes.


End file.
